


The Thing with Feathers

by dancergrl1



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Hospitals, Recovery, Sick Character, Vomiting, Waiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 21:10:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13621734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancergrl1/pseuds/dancergrl1
Summary: Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all. - Emily Dickinson--Anne waits in the hospital for Philip to wake after the fire.





	1. Waiting

Anne waits by his bedside. 

The doctors and nurses had already been through, checking his bandages and treating him as best they could. 

The circus had already been by, but they had to figure out their own situations as well. Their home had burned down, and it wasn’t like there were many who were willing to rent to them. 

Barnum had come and gone. His soot covered face and thick cough weren’t helped by the dry environment of the hospital, and all he’d wanted to do, after ensuring Philip was alright, was go home and hold his girls tightly. They hadn’t been allowed in the hospital ward, and while it had almost killed Anne, she had watched them while Barnum and Charity visited. 

Now they were alone. 

Anne waited. She sat and waited for hours. She was afraid to fall asleep, convinced that Philip would get worse while she was sleeping. She had procured a needle from a nurse to fix a nonexistent rip in her shawl. She held it, poised above her thigh. Every time she began to relax into sleep, the needle would jab her painfully and she would jolt awake. Eventually, the kind nurse who had given it to her took it back. She, unfortunately for Anne, had figured out what she was doing. 

Now, Anne had no way to keep herself awake. She tried everything she’d used, from pinching herself to thinking about the most terrifying things. It was no use. The excitement of the evening coupled with the exertion of the show was too much. Her head fell slowly to her chest, and it rocketed back up. She would not fall asleep. 

The nurse watched from a distance. Clearly, there was some sort of deeper connection between the man in the bed and the girl. She knew the man in the bed. Everyone in the city did. He was Philip Carlyle. She had no idea who the girl next to him was, but if she wasn’t careful, she’d end up in the bed right next to him from sheer exhaustion. The nurse also had a feeling that the girl wouldn’t allow herself much further away from Mr. Carlyle. She decided to offer a compromise. She walked over to the bed, and Anne startled awake as she approached. “I’m here to help,” the nurse said with a smile. “I’m Nurse Vera.” 

Anne held out a wary hand. “Nice to meet you.” she said softly. She’d seen how the other nurses and patients looked at them, so why would this Nurse Vera be any different. 

“If you’re not careful,” Vera began conversationally, “you’ll end up in the bed next to him with exhaustion.” It was the last thing Vera wanted to see happen, but she had seen it happen with other patients’ families. They let themselves fall to pieces to hold everything else together. Eventually, something had to give. 

“I...I can’t be away from him. He’ll...he’ll get worse...and...I...I can’t…” Anne couldn’t finish the sentence. The thought was too horrible to bear. 

“I know. I may have a solution...if you’re open to it.” Nurse Vera said carefully. 

Anne turned to look at her sharply. “If you suggest I go home, you can take that idea back where it came from.” Her tone indicated that she was very, very serious, a far cry from the broken, hesitant voice from only moments ago.

“I would never.” Vera stated. “I was going to offer a chair. It could be right by his bedside, and far more comfortable than falling off the bed.” 

Anne smiled, in spite of herself. It didn’t last long, nor was it particularly large, but it was a smile. “I...I suppose I could try it.” she whispered. It felt like a betrayal to Philip, but she was so tired. Nurse Vera hurried away, taking one of the large chairs from the sitting area by the windows. She brought it over to the bed, and Anne reluctantly moved into it. The immediate comfort it brought to her suddenly aching muscles was a surprising relief. She sank into it, and wrapped herself in her shawl. 

She slept lightly, every time Philip so much as shifted she awoke. Every hitch in his breath, every little sound he made, she was immediately alert. Nurse Vera watched sadly. It was clear that the girl cared about him, but she needed to rest too. There was nothing else she could do for them, however, so she turned to her duties.   
\---  
The next day, some of the circus troupe comes by again. Most notably, WD comes. Anne has given up on the chair, having gotten an intermittent couple of hours of rest. It was enough she didn’t feel the need to keep herself awake constantly. She can’t hide the dark circles from her brother. Even without her looking at him, he knows she’s not well. He sits down beside them, Anne steadfastly keeping her eyes on Philip’s face. Desperate, searching for any signs he’s coming back to them...to her. 

“Anne,” WD says softly. “You need to rest.” 

Anne shakes her head. She can’t leave him. Not now. 

“Please, Annie. He’s going to need you when he wakes, to help him get better.” he tries again, a little more desperate. He refuses to let her run herself dry. 

“I slept here, last night.” It’s not a complete lie, she did sleep. Well, maybe more of a doze, but she slept. She didn’t dare tell her brother that it was short, or light. 

WD closed his eyes, briefly envisioning the reaction they’d get if he threw her over his shoulder and physically carried her out of the hospital. While it would make him feel better, he knew that she would never forgive him. “I’ll be by later. Please, sleep, Anniebug.” he pleaded with her. 

Anne nodded. She couldn’t bring herself to outright lie to her brother.   
\--  
After WD left, she and Philip were left alone again. It occured to Anne, fleetingly, that she hadn’t eaten. No matter, really, she had gotten used to it before the circus. 

The thought didn’t occur to Anne alone. Nurse Vera had also noted that nothing had passed the girl’s lips, neither food nor water, and began to think about how to rectify the problem while not being obvious about it, making it the girl’s idea, not her own. She decided to start with an unobtrusive approach, and simply added a second glass next to the one meant for the patient on the bedside table. A few minutes later, a sweating pitcher filled with water joins it. Nurse Vera knows Anne’s not stupid, and has probably figured out what she’s trying to do. But she’s only trying to help.   
Anne, indeed, has realized what Nurse Vera is trying to do. She also knows that the woman is not being malicious, she’s truly trying to help. Anne looks around furtively before she carefully pours a swallow of water in the glass. That’s all she allows herself. The rest, she swore, was for Philip, when he woke. She nursed the small amount of water she had, but it was gone far too soon. 

Watching the girl drink a small sip at a time, Nurse Vera sighed. It was time for her to take a more...active role in Anne’s health. She bustled over, and noticed the empty glass. “Here, have a little more water,” she stated, pouring Anne a full glass. Anne tried to refuse, but Nurse Vera had walked away before she could. Anne sighed. She needed it, and it was available. Vowing to make it last the day, and swearing the rest was for Philip, she took the smallest of sips and set the cup down. She could hear it sloshing in her empty stomach, and decided to steadfastly ignore the discomfort it caused. She’d gotten by on less. 

Nurse Vera frowned deeply. This wasn’t going quite the way she’d wanted it to, however, there was a more pressing problem. How to get the poor girl to eat something. Nurse vera wasn’t sure how, but she suspected that Anne wouldn’t take food the first time. She decided on a course of action. She wasn’t sure it would work, but that was practically her job. A few gambles, and hoping they paid off. 

Nurse Vera joined Anne and sat in the chair she’d vacated. “You know,” she began casually, “one cannot survive on water and will alone.” 

Anne turned her head sharply. She didn’t need to worry about herself, Philip was in the hospital bed unconscious and maybe dying and burned and injured and here this nurse wanted to talk about her?! Anne’s face contorted into anger, and the words came out far harsher than she’d planned. “He is LAYING here, in PAIN, because of ME. He went in after ME. This is MY FAULT. And you want to come over here and fret over me, when your job is HIM?! Worry about HIM, please, not me!” she shrieked. 

Nurse Vera looked at her blandly. “You need to take care of yourself, too, sweetheart.” she said softly, by way of response. She got up and walked away, but was determined to find some way to get food into this broken girl. She wouldn’t let her kill herself from guilt, or whatever misguided feelings she was having. He was going to need her when he woke.   
—  
Later in the day, Lettie came to visit. Ignoring the looks she was getting, she made herself comfortable in the chair next to the bed. “How is he?” She asked. It wasn’t an unexpected question. 

“Alive.” Came the tired reply. “They said he was responding to light, which is a good sign. His lungs are still rattling, and he’s yet to wake.” She finished.

Lettie had talked to WD, and promised to report back to him. “How are you?” Lettie asked carefully. 

Anne looked at her angrily. “I’m fine.” She responded haughtily. “He’s the one who’s not fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.” She repeated forcefully, as if trying to get herself to believe it.

Lettie could look at her and tell she wasn’t fine, but she also wasn’t going to push. “Have you slept?” 

Anne nodded. She wouldn’t lie to Lettie.

“Have you eaten?” 

Anne kept her head down, and held Philip’s hand a little tighter. 

“Anne? Have you eaten?” Lettie asked again. 

Tears dripped miserably from Anne’s eyes as she was finally forced to admit it. She shook her head, shame replacing her anger. “No...I...I can’t...not with...with him...like...like this.” She whispered brokenly. 

“Oh, honey.” Lettie embraced her tightly, and Anne let herself sob. It was the first release she’d had since the fire. 

“What...what if he…” Anne doesn’t let herself finish, she can’t imagine a world without his blue eyes, his powerful presence, his love for her. She doesn’t want to imagine a world without him. 

Lettie holds her through the storm of emotions, watching Carlyle to ensure he’s not struggling in any way. Lettie notices a glass of water on the table, and sits Anne up, who has all of the same will as a ragdoll at this point. Lettie pushes the glass into her hand, and simply says “Drink.” 

Anne sips at the water, and tries to put it down. Lettie fixes her with a look, and Anne reluctantly drinks more. She can feel her breathing even out, but she lets Lettie keep her propped up.

“You need to eat, Anne Wheeler.” She says simply. “I will send WD down with food when I get back. You need to sleep, and I mean sleep properly, none of the dozing I’d bet you called sleep.”

Anne feels the damn heat back at her eyes, and rolls them. She’s so tired of crying. She needs to be strong, for Philip. “I can’t, Lettie. If I sleep, and he wakes alone...what will I do? He’ll be scared, and alone, and I can’t do that to him because god dammit he went in after me and i can’t let him think he did it in vain and…” Anne begins hyperventilating, unable to get her words out. Lettie pulls her back into an embrace, trying to use the pressure to calm her breathing. It works, and Anne sits up, this time under her own power. “Lettie...thank you. Really, I’m fine now.” Lettie gets the hint and takes her leave, and leaves her with Philip. The hours roll forward, time fluid. 

Then, she feels it. It was a twitch, a spasm, maybe, but then she sees his hands moving. She focuses on his face, and sees his eyes open to slits. She squeezes his hand tighter, like she can will him into wakefulness. When she sees the entirety of his beautiful blue eyes, she starts to cry. 

“You’re here.” he rasps. 

She nods, tears falling. Without thinking, she leans over and kisses him. He’s awake, he’s a live, and she’s never letting him out of her sight again.


	2. Waking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip is awake, but the kids aren't alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while. I lost my groove and then it's tech week for Wizard of Oz. Enjoy! Next chapter we're going to jump in time a bit to Philip's next step in recovering.

Philip wakes in a haze of pain and confusion. He feels like he’s coming down off a night of drinking after being run over by a carriage and then stepped on by an elephant. It’s all he can do to open his eyes. The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is a familiar cream shawl, now stained with black streaks. This encourages him to open his eyes further. When they open, they see Anne. She made it out. She’s alive. “You’re here.” His voice is raspy, the words indistinct, but she understands him. She nods, with tears in her eyes. He barely has time to think before she leans to kiss him. She tastes like soot and fire and something distinctly Anne, and it’s soothing. He has to pull away, though, to breathe. He takes a deep breath...and coughs violently. He tries to sit up, and feels pain tear across his chest. If he wasn’t trying so hard to breathe, he would have screamed for how much it hurt. He focuses on trying to get his breathing back under control as Anne and some other body, he doesn’t bother trying to decipher who, sit him up gently. He leans over, doubled in pain. They’re hitting his back and god it hurts but...it’s helping? He feels something clearing from his throat, and he spits it into a bowl that he doesn’t even know where it came from. He can suddenly breathe again, and he takes shallow breaths to try to avoid another coughing fit. 

“Philip?” Anne asks gently. 

Philip smiles weakly at her. “I'm alright, darling.” he whispers. 

Anne huffs out a laugh. “Right, that was a perfect example of fine. Unable to breathe. Coughing madly. Fine. Right.”

Philip frowns. She's always been able to call him on his lies. Why should this have been any different? “We have...water?” he asks. It would feel good on his throat. It felt like he had swallowed the fire he'd run into. 

Anne turns quickly, and Philip can’t see what she’s doing. Right before she turns back, he catches her hand swiping over her eyes. “Anne?” he asks. God, talking hurt. 

“I’m fine.” she stated resolutely. Philip could hear the thickness in her voice, but didn’t have the strength to call her on it. “Here’s the water.” She turned back to him, and helped sit him up enough to drink a few sips. The effort wears him out, and she lays him back down. “Sleep, darling. I’ll be here when you wake.” 

His eyes slipped closed unbidden, and he tried to blink them open again. “Anne…” he mumbled. 

Her hand in his calmed him, and he was asleep.   
\---  
Anne let the tears fall, once she was sure he was asleep. She’d almost lost him, she couldn’t do it again. He’d scared her, with that coughing fit, and then he’d fallen back asleep so quickly. Was this...was this normal? Was this their life now? Anne felt her breathing quicken and closed her eyes. She had to remember that their love was going to get them through this. She could do this, he would recover, and they would be together. They’d make a life together. 

She was pulled from her thoughts by the feeling of someone nearby. She turned, and practically leapt into her older brother’s arms. “He woke. It was brief, and he was coughing and oh it was horrid but he woke and he knew me and he’s going to be better, WD, he will.” she stated. 

WD, never a man of many words, held his sister tighter. He noticed she was lighter than before, and the circles under her eyes were deeper than the last time he’d seen her. But the light was back in her eyes. “I’ll be sure to pass it on. Lettie said you haven’t eaten.” It wasn’t a question. Anne lowered her eyes. 

“I couldn’t.” she responded. 

WD looked at her. Her metabolism had always been high, and it showed. She found winters, even mild ones, to be colder than she could handle, and loved hot, stuffy spaces. She found them a comfortable temperature. Her dress, though it was fit to her, hung in wrinkled waves on her frame. WD laid the wrapped bundle on his lap, and handed his sister a slice of bread. “Eat.” he said simply. 

Anne lifted the bread to her mouth, and swallowed convulsively. She puts it back down. “Annie…” WD said sadly. 

“I...I can’t.” she whispered. 

WD went over to his sister, and knelt by her side. “Please, Annie, try. He needs you.”

Anne shook her head. “It’s all tied in knots, and it feels like I wanna throw up.” 

WD felt heat at the back of his eyes. Despite what she said, she was in love with him. WD left Anne no choice and pulled her down to him. She curled up small, like she had when she was a child, and he held her tightly. He knew what this meant, it meant she was scared, uncertain, and needed someone to make her feel small again. Make her feel safe. He was content to be the one to offer it to her. WD didn’t know how long his little sister stayed curled in his lap, but she had become heavier, and he had moved to lean against a wall under a window and she hadn’t stirred. He tensed as a nurse approached, but when she didn’t make any threatening move, he relaxed. 

“How’d you get her to sleep?” she asked wondrously. 

“I didn't. She could barely eat, and I think she wore herself out. It’s been a long several days for all of us.” he responded. Clearly, this nurse had noticed his sister during her wait, and wanted to help. 

The nurse frowned. “She hasn’t eaten since he came in. Would she take something from us?” she asked, concerned.

WD shook his head. “She’d think she was taking food out of the patient’s mouths. She’s never eaten much, but this...this is extreme, even for her.” he finished. 

The nurse shook her head again. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like. She’s been here for as long as he has and this is the best she’s slept.” Noticing Anne start to toss, she stepped away. 

Nodding, WD held his sister tighter. She stilled, and relaxed, nearly boneless in his arms. WD leaned his head back. What a mess.   
\---  
Waking in the hospital the second time is nothing like the first. He wakes from a nightmare, his throat hoarse and Anne tensed beside him. There was a strong, solid body behind him, holding his arms tightly but soft against his burned chest.

Anne holds the water glass for him, and he drinks greedily. “Philip, slow down.” she scolds. He does, marginally, but the cold feels like it’s putting out the fire he’s swallowed. She takes it away, and he almost whines at the loss. She smiles, he’s so adorable, like a small child. “Do you want to try to sit up for a bit?” Anne asks softly. She looks at whoever is behind him, and she nods. 

Philip shrugs. It would be nice to feel a bit more human, sitting up to try to have a discussion, rather than lying down. He feels himself being pulled back and reclined slightly. The arms holding his let go, and Philip relaxes. 

Anne has to let out a small laugh at her Philip being so relaxed on her brother. She figured he didn’t know who was there, and didn’t care. It felt nice to be sitting up. He sits and draws breath as Anne tells him stories of her, learning tricks and playing around as a child. He smiles, thinking it was nice to hear her again. Something she says makes him laugh, and it turns it into a coughing fit. He rockets up, ignoring the lightning hot pain that shoots across his chest, and coughs for all he’s worth. He coughs so hard his gag reflex becomes involved and it feels like his stomach is going to come out of his mouth. There’s another solid round of someone beating his back, another horrid slimy something spit out of his mouth, and he can breathe again. 

Anne was far less upset this time about the coughing. WD, if it was possible, paled at the force with which the air was being forced out of his body and how roughly and thickly he was coughing. Three nurses rushed over and began to help. Soon enough, though if you asked WD it was too long, he was breathing shallowly again. Anne motioned to WD to stay where he was. “It’s from the smoke.” she said simply. Philip, worn out from the coughing, had fallen asleep. Anne took his hand again, and looked at her brother. “The smoke he breathed in basically created a bunch of stuff that gets stuck to the inside of his lungs, and makes it hard to breathe. That’s just the stuff coming out.” she finished. 

WD shook his head. He couldn’t believe that Philip was going to get better, not after seeing him like this. 

Anne, seeing the wheels turn in her brother’s head, put a hand on his shoulder. “He’s going to get better. It takes time. The doctors say that as soon as he’s improved some and started moving around, he can come home. He’s going to be okay.” she said with conviction. 

WD could only hope she was right.


	3. Nightmares and Troubles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip has nightmares, and everyone starts to confront their issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry. Just...fair warning...

He was back in the fire again, screaming Anne’s name. Except this time, there’s a response, from somewhere far away, and no matter how much he runs towards it he can’t get to it. He takes a deep breath, and feels the smoke fill his lungs again. 

“Anne! Anne!” he screams, but it doesn’t come out this time. The noise doesn’t come out of his mouth and he’s burning there’s something burning. 

He looks up just as the cupola of the building comes down right where he’s standing and…

OH GOD ANNE ISN’T OUT YET WHERE WAS ANNE. Philip tries to run, but he can’t oh god he can’t run and the ceiling is coming down on top of him. Something sears him across the front of his chest, and something else hits his head and he falls to the ground. 

Suddenly, there’s a pair of arms around his. “Anne?” he whispers. “Anne I'm Sorry I couldn’t get you out I tried I did but the ceiling fell and you’re gone and I'm Sorry I'msorry i’msorryi’msorryi’msorry.” Philip continues mumbling apologies as he lets the fire take him.  
\---  
Anne notices when Philip’s breathing picks up in his sleep. The next thing she sees is his body tense and then he starts fighting the sheets. He lets out the most agonizing scream, and this is what spurs Anne into action. He stops for a moment, only to scream again but this time it was her name he was screaming. Anne sits him up on her own, holding him tightly against her. She can feel Philip shaking, and can only guess at what he’s seeing. Holding him this close, she can hear what he’s mumbling, and it breaks her heart. “Anne I'm sorry I couldn’t get you out I tried I did but the ceiling fell and you’re gone and I'm sorry I'msorry i’msorryi’msorryi’msorry.” 

Anne, tears falling down her face, starts speaking in his ear. “Philip, I’m here, we’re here, we’re okay. You got us both out in time. You saved the circus. You’re okay, just come back to me. Just come back to me, and we’ll live the life you promised me.”  
\---  
Philip doesn’t know why he hasn’t died yet, he was caught in the fire. He can feel himself being cradled gently and it hurts his chest but it feels...good? It feels...safe, he decides. If this is how it felt to die in a fire, he thought he was okay with it. 

Suddenly, Anne’s voice begins to speak to him. “Philip, I’m here, we’re here, we’re okay. You got us both out in time. You saved the circus. You’re okay, just come back to me. Just come back to me, and we’ll live the life you promised me.”

Come back to her? Then where was he? He was in the fire, and she was still trapped...right? Suddenly it was just them, in the middle of the ring, no fire, nobody else. Philip could feel her holding him tightly, and...why were his eyes closed? He didn’t remember closing them but clearly he had but when? It was unnerving he couldn’t remember what had happened.

He decided to work on opening his eyes. When he did, it was not what he expected.  
\---  
Philip opened his eyes. He didn’t see the circus ring, there was no fire. He tried to wrap his arms around , return her embrace. “Anne.” he breathed. 

She pulled back, looking at him. “Oh thank god, you’re awake.” she cut herself off there, not wanting to concern him. 

Philip didn’t notice. “Anne, you...you were trapped...and screaming...and...I couldn’t...I couldn’t get to you.” he stuttered out, tears coming down his face. Anne pulled him back against her, and if it was hurting him, he didn’t notice. He was too thankful to be with her. Thankful that she was ok, that she was alive. It wasn’t new to him to have no concern for his own life or safety, he hadn’t since he’d returned from Oxford. 

Anne just sat with him against her, holding him tightly. WD had long since disappeared, after watching her slowly swallow a bit of bread. It was all she could put down. He’d promised to be back with something more later, something easier. Something filling, if she had to guess. The bread sat heavy in her stomach, like she’d swallowed rocks. She felt Philip still shaking against her. Looking down, she could see the tears still streaming down his face. Anne just held him, and anyone who had something to say wisely kept their distance. She carefully ran her hand up and down his back, letting him know she was there, they were alive, and she wasn’t leaving him. 

Over time, Anne was never sure of time here, the shaking stopped, and he stilled. He began to relax. And relax more. Finally, he was just slumped against her, the exhaustion winning out again. Nurse Vera approached, but Anne shook her head. He would be fine. It was something that had happened before. She waited a few minutes, and began to slowly adjust them. First she went behind him, bringing his head back down to her chest. Next, she began carefully inching back, stopping often to ensure he didn’t awaken. Finally, Anne was resting against the wall with philip tucked tightly to her. He didn’t stir for the longest time, and the shadows began to lengthen across the room. Only when the oil lamps had been lit did he begin to stir. 

“Anne?” he asked, sounding scared. Anne adjusted slightly, moving his head to be able to hear her heartbeat, letting him know she was here, she was close, and he was safe. He continued to come back to wakefulness, far slower and calmer than he had. 

When he looks up at her with his blue eyes, reminding her more of a child than a man, she smiles softly. “Hey darling.” she says. “It’s been a while since you’ve eaten, do you think you can eat a bit for me?” she asked kindly. 

Philip steeled himself and nodded resolutely. He would certainly try, for Anne. Anne waved over a nurse and Philip tuned the conversation out, not involving himself in the affairs of women. He knew better, between his mother, Charity, Anne, and the circus women. They could spend hours discussing hair, and dresses, and...Philip’s thinking is interrupted by Anne laughing. 

“Where were you?” she asks, a joke and serious in the same statement. Philip shakes his head, not wanting to admit it. Anne holds out a bowl half filled with soup, and philip almost gags at the sight of it. Barely able to hold it in, he’s not hungry, nor has he been. Swallowing has been enough work without trying to add the thought of food. 

“Hey, we just want you to try a few sips. That’s all. It’s only been a day. You’re ok if you’re not hungry, but we have to try.” Anne whispered to him. 

Philip nodded, trying to keep his stomach where it was supposed to. Anne lifted the spoon to his lips, and Philip swallows, and lets Anne pour it in. His first reaction is to gag, but he overrides it and swallows. It hits his stomach hollowly, and it starts to rebel. Anne offers the spoon again, and he turns his head. He can’t open his mouth, he’s sure it’ll come back up. And oh god how that would hurt. 

“Philip?” Anne asks, concerned. 

Philip shakes his head. He hears the bowl hit the bedside table, and relaxes. He tries to will his churning stomach into submission, but it’s not working. Anne slides back in behind him and he all but collapses, his head on her chest, his eyes closed. A pair of warm hands find his stomach, and while it’s uncomfortable on his burns, he’s convinced he feels the churning settle. Anne just holds him loosely, and he finds himself falling asleep. 

“Go to sleep, sweetie.” Anne encourages. Philip blanches at the idea, and Anne is concerned. “Philip?” She asks. It’s becoming uncannily familiar, his name in that tone. 

“Can’t...I’ll be...back there…” he spits. “Can’t have you...in there...can’t...save you…” he’s beginning to ramble now, and he knows it. But he can’t stop himself, and he finds himself spilling out how she screams, and he can’t move, and it just plays on a loop in his head until he’s crying again and goddammit he’s done crying. Anne is trying to soothe him, and he just lets himself relax into her and for god’s sake shuts his mouth. Anne holds him, and Philip feels a bit like he’s floating, the exhaustion combined with the emotion made him unresponsive to much, and he found he couldn’t really care. Anne was talking, and suddenly there’s a spoon at his mouth again. This is bitter and horrid, but after only a few minutes Philip is floating higher now, and his eyes...are they closing? No, they can’t be, he doesn’t...want...to...sleep. 

Anne didn’t like it, but she knew the body needed sleep to recover. After a brief conversation with Nurse Vera, she gives Philip something to sleep. He grimaces at the taste, and tries to fight it, but he sleeps. Anne knows if he ever finds out that he’ll be angry, but he needed to sleep. 

Anne sits for hours watching him sleep. Watches for a change in breathing, tensing, or his mouth starting to move. Soon enough, she slips asleep as well. Her fears haunt her dreams, but neither wake until the sun is coming over the horizon


	4. An Anne Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne has been pushing herself, and everyone agrees it’s time for dramatic measures. 
> 
> Anne is NOT HAPPY.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a really, really angsty chapter, but Charity is a superhero

Anne wheeler was by no means a weak woman. She was a trapeze artist, escaped from the south, and living in a circus fraught with peril every day. She was by no means weak, but everyone has their breaking point.

Which is how they got here.   
—  
It was about a week and a half after Philip’s admission to the hospital, and Anne had been there every day. Philip was improving by bits and pieces every day, but Anne was getting worse. Not that she would admit it. Philip often caught her bobbing her head in sleep when she was sure he was sleeping, and WD had been there for hours every day. Anne would only sleep when he was sleeping, but she wouldn’t sleep well unless someone else was there. She still hadn’t eaten much, and had yet to leave, even for clean clothes. Her dress, still streaked with soot, hung on her gaunt frame. Her eyes were dull, her hair had lost its shine, and you could see how tired she was. But she refused to leave. 

During one of the increasingly longer naps she was taking on WD, for that’s where she slept best, philip had started a conversation with him. Philip didn’t have a volume high enough to wake her, and WD had long learned how to speak without disturbing his sister. “WD, she’s so exhausted. There has to be something we can do.” Philip stated. 

WD nodded. He agreed. “I’ve tried everything, but she just can’t eat. She’s already so thin...i don’t know what else we can do. I don’t know what there’s left to do.” He responded despondently. 

“She won’t leave me without someone else here. Who does she trust?” He asked the air. 

WD brightened. “She trusts Lettie. She knows Lettie would take care of you.” 

Philip looked at WD and nodded. “SO how are we going to do this?” He asked. 

WD and Philip planned until Anne began to stir. They didn’t tell her, although WD tried once more to get her to eat something. She said something vague about it not going down. WD Nodded and left, stating his usual goodbyes to philip. Anne didn’t notice as he stopped to talk to Nurse Vera, who they’d all become friendly with. Philip did, and swallowed. He wasn’t looking forward to the next day.   
—  
THe next day, Philip woke and found Anne already awake. The circles under her eyes were deep, like she had been punched. “Did you sleep?” He whispered. Anne shook her head, and he frowned. “You have to sleep, darling. I’m getting better. You have to take care of yourself, too.” He continued. He looked towards the door, and Anne followed his gaze. Her heart sank, though she didn’t know why, when she saw both her brother and Lettie at the door. She noticed the nurses had made themselves scarce. 

Lettie tried to give her an escape. “Have you eaten?” She asked kindly. Anne shook her head, dreading what was going to happen, even if she didn’t know what. Philip looked at WD, and they nodded at each other. 

WD stood in front of his sister, and bent down. “Cmon, Anne.” He didn’t think he would get any response, but he could feel his sister’s stony, angry glare on him. Undeterred, he hefted her over his shoulder, keeping her skirt over her legs to preserve some of her dignity. 

Philip was sure he would never forget her screams as WD carried her out the door, nor her look of hurt and betrayal and anger, directed at him. 

WD didn’t let himself hear her screams. He did anyways. “Philip! PHILIP! WD let me down! Philip! PHILIP!” She screamed until she was hoarse, and tried to kick her brother to get him to let her down. He calmly threaded her legs between his arms, effectively trapping them and keeping her from kicking. She weakly hit his back as he carried her, but even she knew that it wouldn’t hurt. When they stopped, and WD put her down, Anne tried to run. WD was anticipating it and wrapped her in his arms. She stopped struggling after a few moments, and became limp in her brother’s arms. It really was no use trying. WD turned her towards him, and she refused to look at him. When he pulled her in, she let herself relax. They stood like that, Anne trying not to cry and WD supporting her, for a time Anne was unsure of. FInally, WD lifted her up, but much more kindly this time. WD began walking up a drive Anne recognized as the Barnum’s. WD put her down when they reached the porch, but kept a hand loosely wrapped around her wrist to remind her. Anne found she was too tired to put up any other protests. The door opened shortly, and Charity Barnum was there. “WD, Anne. How are you?” She asked quietly. She knew, already, how Anne was, but like everyone else, was giving her a chance to tell it herself. 

WHen Anne stayed silent, Charity nodded. “We’ve made up a room for you.” She said, and waited for the inevitable. 

Anne came back to herself briefly. “I’m NOT staying!!” She yelled emphatically. 

WD stepped in. “You are.” Was all he said, but it was all Anne needed. 

Even though every instinct was telling her not to, WD had dropped her hand, and she ran. She was determined to find another way out. Charity, to her credit, didn’t react at all. 

WD gave chase, cursing himself for letting go. He’d thought she would give up the idea, but she didn’t give up on much. He had the advantage of having been digging through the rubble and eating regularly, but she had the edge in speed. He cornered her in a dead end hallway. 

She looked like the lions did when they were trapped. Scared, but ready to attack. She had folded herself into a ball, and WD could hear her crying. He reached out to her, and she shrieked. “GET AWAY! YOU WOULD HAVE ME STAY HERE WHILE PHILIP IS IN THE HOSPITAL SICK AND DYING BECAUSE OF ME. GET AWAY FROM ME!” 

PT had taken the girls, as Charity had been expecting something of a fight from Anne about staying. WD, ignoring her indignant shrieks, scooped her up over his shoulder again. Charity, hovering in the corner, beckons WD and his screaming charge to follow her. They go through a maze of hallways, and WD is sure the double back once or twice to confuse his crying sister, before charity opens a door that leads to an ornate bedroom. 

“Anne?” Charity asks. Anne turns her head away from her. 

“Anne.” It's not a question from WD’s mouth, and Anne screeches. Charity offers a hand to WD, and they close the door behind them. WD’s knees are weak, and he falls to the floor and drops his head in his hands. “Did...did I do the right thing?” He asks quietly. 

Charity, even in her fine dress and all of her grace and poise, slides down next to him. “Don’t doubt that you did the right thing. She's angry, and though she won't admit it, scared. She doesn't know what's right or wrong right now. She's been so focused on Philip’s recovery that she didn't realize what was happening to herself.” Charity stated the facts as if they were simple and set, and WD understood. She'd been ignoring her needs in favor of Phillips. 

“Now, how are you, WD?” Charity asked. 

WD startled, and Charity smiled sadly. She guessed that nobody had asked him that question. “I’ll be fine.” He responds. Charity stands and offers a hand to him again. Taking it, he stands. 

She leads him to the kitchen, and dismissing the staff with a wave, she puts on a kettle. “It can’t have been easy, having to do that. Tell me, please. How are you, really?” She asks pleadingly. 

WD lowers his head. “I’m...I’m scared, and I’m worried, and I’m angry.” He admits. Charity wraps her arms around him, and he melts. There’s no other words for the way he relaxes and slumps into her. They stay like that, WD just taking in the comfort he needs, until a shriek from upstairs reminds them of what’s brought them here. 

Charity pulls back, but keeps a hand on his arm. “Tell me, what has she eaten?” She asks. 

WD swallows and hangs his head in shame. “I can’t get her to eat much more than bread, and even that she only eats a little bit. She’s barely eaten anything, but i know there’s a nurse there who’s been pushing water into her constantly.” 

Charity nods, and turns towards the counters around her. Pulling a thick, crusty loaf of French bread towards her, she cuts several slices and slathers them with a creamy sort of cheese. “Make sure she eats at least three. If it comes back up it does, but it’s more filling than what she’s had. If she really can’t keep anything down, I’ll have Phin send for a doctor when he returns. You’re welcome to stay with us as well, WD. I know how it is when someone you care for is not themselves.” She gestured for WD to follow her, and she shows him a more direct route to Anne’s room. 

“Anne?” Charity asks. There’s no answer, and Charity opens the door. WD has a brief moment of panic when his sister is nowhere to be found, but he hears a muffled sob come from under the bed. 

Charity quietly places the plate on the table by the bed, and takes up a spot on the floor leaning against it. “You know, I went to finishing school, and Phin and I had been the best of friends. We saw each other often, as my father kept his on his tab for the finest clothes and always new. We would discover new places in the house, and then we found this place one day. It became our haven. We could be friends, and nobody was looking down on us. We want that to be true for our friends, as well. We hope everyone can feel safe, and welcomed, here in our home.” WD sat unobtrusively next to a window, but was listening carefully. 

“I...i want to go back...to him. He needs me, right now.” Anne whispered brokenly. 

“You need to take care of yourself, too. He’s worried about you, the way you’re not taking care of yourself.” Charity left out that he’d agreed to this, considering using it later if she continued to disagree. “I’ve also brought some bread. WD…” a shriek of anger at his name cuts off her words, and the man himself closes his eyes. There was so much anger in her. He didn’t understand why she was so angry, he was only trying to help. “He said it was all you could eat. I’ve added some cheese on top, to make it a little more filling. We can try something else later, if you’re feeling up to it.” Charity continued. WD supposed that between 2 daughters, having someone interrupting your sentence was a usual experience. 

A hand appeared from underneath the bed, and WD held back a laugh. She was so like a child, conceding, but on her terms. Charity smiled, and brought the plate down. She put it in the hand, and it disappeared under the bed. “Please do try to actually eat it.” Charity said conversationally. “I’ll bring some water up, if you’d like?” Charity didn’t expect an answer, so the “yes, please.” In the smallest voice she had ever heard surprised her. 

“I’ll be right back with it then.” Charity promised. She and WD left, but the door was opened this time.   
—  
ANne was left alone. She stayed, curled under the bed like she had as a child, while she tried to eat the bread. Charity was so kind, she didn’t want to disappoint her. She waited between each one, unsure how her stomach would react. She didn't want to throw up if she could help it. She hated throwing up. Her stomach rebelled after two slices, and she frowned. It was frustrating, not being able to get her body to participate. Then she paused, thinking that was probably how Philip felt, recovering. After listening carefully for a number of minutes, she pulled herself out from underneath the bed, and took off her shawl and shoes, and wrapped herself in the blankets. The weight was welcome, and it calmed her. She wasn’t sure how, but she fell asleep. 

It was the deepest she’d slept in weeks.


	5. Getting Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne wakes, sick, and WD sets their differences aside to get her through it..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry we're still with Anne at the Barnum's . We're checking in with Philip next chapter, who is improving.

Anne woke with a start to evening light streaming through the windows. She briefly wondered why she'd woken, then felt the bile burning it's way up her throat with a vengeance. Anne clamped a hand over her mouth, desperately looking for something to throw up in. Finding nothing, she flung open a window and retched out of it. What she'd eaten before came up, and watery bile followed. The horrid scene continued for some while, and only when she slumped back, tears running down her face and shivering, did she notice someone holding her up from behind. 

“She feels warm, Mrs. Barnum.” WD’s voice came softly next to her ear, and she didn't protest his embrace. She turned herself miserably into his chest and curled her fingers into his shirt. Though she was angry, right now she needed him. 

“Phin’s downstairs. Should I send him for a doctor?” Charity's light, airy voice was weighted with worry.

Anne felt WD hesitate, then nod against her head. “It probably has been festering for days. Best to know early.” he said, defeat lacing his words. Anne felt herself be lifted and carried. She only protested when her brother went to put her down. 

“No...please...don't go…” she begged. She couldn't bear being alone right now. “Please” a hitching sob interrupted her. “Don't go.” she finished miserably. “Don't leave me.” she said through tears. 

WD’s heart broke. He wrapped his sister in a blanket on his lap, and Anne sat miserably, not entirely coherent, tears dripping every so often. The grip she had on his shirt was like iron. He knew that right now, despite their disagreement, she needed him right now. She had nearly lost Philip, and she was losing herself. If he was to be the port in her storm, he'd fill that role every time. No questions asked.  
\---  
WD didn't know when he'd fallen asleep, but the door opening brought him to alert in a second. He relaxed when he only saw Charity and the doctor stepping through the door.

“What can you tell me?” the doctor asked. 

“She hasn't been eating much, and she felt warm earlier. She was throwing up earlier after only eating a couple slices of bread, and has basically only had water for about a week.” WD replied, shame lacing his tone. He should've done more. This should've been done earlier. He should've tried harder. Charity put a hand on his shoulder. She understood. 

The doctor didn't have the kindest bedside manner, and was not nearly as understanding. “I need to actually be able to see her, you know.” he stated haughtily. WD couldn't be bothered to respond, but he felt Charity’s hand tighten on his shoulder. 

Her words were colder than he'd ever heard. “This girl has spent a week and half feeling guilty that a man ran through a fire she wasn't in for her. He's in the hospital recovering, she's barely been eating because of her guilt. The least you could do is have sympathy.” Charity ground out. 

The doctor, properly chastened, finished the exam as best he could in the midst of a stony silence. “Far as I can tell, it's not much more than a fever. Give it time, it'll break, just keep her cool and try to keep her fluids up. If she can't keep anything down, then it's a concern. Not much we can do about it now though. Try soups, light broths, things of that nature.” The doctor left, and Charity didn't bother to show him out. That action told WD how angry she was.

WD held his sister tightly. Charity spoke kindly this time. “We should probably get her out of her clothes. She's been in them for a week now, it's probably manifested in there.”

WD nodded numbly and waved Charity off. “I’ve got this. Go to your girls.”

Charity gave a small smile and shook her head. “Phin has got them. They've missed him, and he them. I'm here to help you.”

Between the two of them, they managed to get Anne's shawl out from about her. She protested weakly when they took it, but with promises of giving it back when they were done, they managed to wrestle it from her. 

Charity was sure she'd never forget the heartbreak she felt when WD put his sister down to get her out of her dress. When he was holding her, she'd been content. Slightly distressed, but content mostly. She began to openly son when she was let go of, and even WD was having trouble holding himself together to change her. They decided to just leave her in a clean shift of Charity’s. 

It took a long time to calm Anne back down and reassure her they weren't leaving.   
\---  
It was late the next time Anne woke. Though, she was sure she'd been awake earlier. She remembered WD letting go of her, leaving her, and they had taken her shawl and her clothes. Anne reached out blindly for WD, he had come back after they'd taken her things. 

“Duh...duh...Dee…” she mumbled. 

“Dee?” She asked when she got no response. She felt a rough, warm hand run over her hair. 

“Right here, Annie. Always right here.” he whispered lovingly. Anne relaxed, but soon found she was cold. “Dee...cold…” she whined. 

WD was confused. Anne felt like a fireplace, how could she be cold? A more insistent tug on his shirt let him know she was getting impatient. WD flung his side of the quilt over her as well, it was too late and he didn't want to run afoul of the Barnum's staff. Anne seemed content with the solution. She relaxed back into sleep, but now it was WD who was awake. When Anne was better, he dreaded telling her that she couldn't go to the hospital until she was well. If they weren't black, she'd have made an excellent lawyer.  
\---  
The next morning finds Anne pinning her brother down, and tangled in the blankets. WD slipped a hand over her forehead, and winced at the heat. She was so warm. He disentangles her from the blankets, and has to stifle a laugh at her whine. She looked and acted so much younger when she was sick. “Anne, you're too warm.” He whispered.   
Anne, still asleep, mumbled “Am n’t, c’ld.”

WD huffed. He really didn't have time for this argument. “Anne, you've got to cool down. You can keep the sheet, but not the quilt.” he conceded. He couldn't resist her sometimes. 

The door opens behind him and admits Charity, who WD swears is the most wonderful sight he'd seen all day, and it was early yet. “Thank god. She’s super warm, but refuses to give over the blankets.” 

Charity laughed lightly. “That's the easiest negotiation I'll handle this morning. You haven't seen Caroline and Helen over the costumes in their playroom. Go downstairs and get something to eat. Don't need you in the bed next to her, ill.” Upon hearing these words, Charity noticed Anne start to shift uncomfortably, and as she curled into herself and began to cry, Charity thinks to what WD’s mentioned. She put a hand to her mouth, and a horrified expression overtook her face.

WD, who had been taking his leave, went back to his sister. “Charity, don't be upset. She's ill and we're all tired. I'll calm her down. Could you bring some water, some cloths, and a bit of broth? Warm, not hot?” he asked gently. He'd reensonced Anne into his lap, and she was crying softly into his chest. She was still so, so warm. He waited for her to ride it out, and sooner than he'd anticipated, she was limp in his lap. From her even breathing, he knew she wasn't in trouble health wise. 

Charity reappeared with what he'd asked for, and he thanked her profusely. Charity smiled, and instead of leaving, took a seat. She sat with them for a few minutes before WD spoke.

“She...she needs to eat...and drink...but...can...could you...can you help?” The last part rushes out in one breath. Charity smiles and nods softly. 

“Of course. I told you, I'm here to help.” she responds. Together they manage to sit Anne up, and WD rouses her carefully. She opens glazed eyes halfway, smiles dopily at her brother, and slumps back into him. He grunts, she'd come at him with some force. “Anne, c'mon, up for a bit, let's go.” he said with some force, but soft nonetheless. 

“Dee...ti-red” she dragged out the vowel, and WD shook his head. A child, indeed. 

“I know, but you need to eat.” Anne's face pales at that, and he sees her gag reflex working. 

“Anne?” He asks, concerned. 

“No..can't eat.” She whispers. Any louder volume and she thinks they'll have a repeat of this morning. 

“Try some water then, Annie.” He's pleading at the point, he knows, but he has to get something into her. Charity holds up a finger, and rushes from the room. Intrigued, WD waits for her return. She comes back bearing a mug for coffee, and shows him the contents. It's a light broth, but she's confident Anne can't tell the difference until she swallows it. 

“Anne, I've got water.” WD feels horrid, lying to his sister, but she was at a dangerous precipice and in danger of falling over the edge. 

Anne looks at him skeptically, but reaches out. With help, she lifts the cup to her mouth. She takes a tentative sip, and pushes it away. WD holds his breath, for what, he's not sure. 

“Tastes...funny…” she slurs. 

Charity steps in for this problem. “It's because you're ill. Everything will for a while.”

Anne frowns. 

Charity continues, sensing she's unconvinced. “I know it tastes funny, but you have to drink it. Otherwise you'll get worse.” 

Anne frowns deeper, almost pouting, but takes the cup back. “At least half that before you sleep.” Charity finishes. 

Reluctantly, Anne keeps sipping until it's just over halfway empty. No matter it's taken about a half hour, it was something. Her face turns ashen just before she pushes the cup away. “Anne?” WD asks, worried. 

Anne swallows hard, and shakes her head determinedly. She doesn’t open her mouth, but she wills it to stay. “Tired.” She states. WD lays her down on him again. Charity takes the cup and closes the door, but not before assuring WD she'd be back soon. 

The siblings sleep soundly.


	6. Ready to go?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back with Philip, he's improving nicely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's shorter, but it wouldn't come out right. Better next chapter, the reunion at last!

Philip and Lettie looked at the door long after Anne and WD had left it. 

It was Philip who broke the silence first. “Did...did we make the right choice? Did we do the right thing?” he asked miserably. Anne’s screams broke his heart, and had he not been stuck in the bed, he would have run after her. 

Lettie responded with more force than she’d intended. “We did, Carlyle. We absolutely did the right thing.” 

Philip deflated, suddenly tired. He rolled his eyes. He was so tired...of being tired. Eating made him tired, drinking made him tired, hell, even sleeping made him tired. Lettie pulls the blanket tighter around him. This makes him warmer, which relaxes him even more. “L’ttie” he mumbles. 

“Sleep, Carlyle.” she responds. It’s warm, but sarcastic all the same.

His eyes shoot back open. “I...I can’t...she’ll be trapped...and I’ll be stuck...I...can’t!” he forces out through panting breaths. The last thing he wants to do is cough.

Lettie helps him sit up, and holds him by the shoulders. “If you start having a nightmare, I will wake you up. Okay? You’re not alone in this, kid.” 

Philip nods tiredly. He was so done with this. 

“Alright. Let’s get you sleeping so you can get out of here.” 

He was asleep in a short while, and his dreams were nonexistent.  
\---  
While Philip is sleeping, PT comes by. Unlike Philip, he’s already kicked his cough, and is bursting with new ideas. Lettie looks at him, still upset over what happened. She can read in his face it’s not good news.

“Hey Barnum, what’s going on?” Lettie got straight to the point. 

“Anne’s taken ill, she won’t be by for a bit.” he responded. 

Lettie brought a hand to her mouth. “This isn’t going to end well.” she stated. 

Barnum sighed. “I know. Unless…Philip is recovering well. He could just come with me, and that way he’s near Anne, and she’s near him.”

Lettie considers it. “You’d have to convince him first.” 

Barnum smirks. “I have the biggest bargaining chip on my side. Anne.”

Lettie smiles. “Good luck.”  
\---  
Philip wakes, actually feeling rested. Instead of Lettie, he finds Nurse Vera sitting with him. “How are you feeling?” she asks kindly. 

Philip takes a moment to consider it. “Fairly well, actually.” 

Nurse Vera smiles warmly. “How about trying to walk? Just a little, but it would set you further on the road out of here.” 

Philip grimaces, it sounds like it’s gonna hurt. But if it gets him out of here, he’ll try anything. 

Nurse Vera and Lettie, appearing out of nowhere, support him as he stands. He’s embarrassed to admit there’s sweat beading on his forehead from the exertion. When he’s standing, on his own two feet, they let go, but hover nearby. “This feels...nice. Odd, but...nice.” he states. Lettie laughs, and even Nurse Vera has to smile.

She gestures for Lettie to resume her spot on the other side, and asks “Are you ready to try to take a few steps?” 

Philip nods determinedly. “I’ll try.” 

They begin to move along, and while his steps are a shuffle for the first few, he takes a few hesitant, actual steps before he stops. 

“That was really good, Mr. Carlyle.” Nurse Vera says. 

“It...it felt good.” he responds.  
\---  
Philip turned over. It was a few days after the first time he’d been out of bed, and he swore it was improving him daily. The only thing was, nobody would tell him why Anne wasn’t coming by anymore. He and WD had agreed that it would only be so she would eat and sleep. It had been three days. 

“Lettie, where is Anne?” he tried again. Maybe he could get a different answer this time. 

“She’s with WD, I’ve told you that. He’s got her.” Lettie answered. She hadn’t told him that Anne had gotten sick. She didn’t have the heart, especially when he needed to focus on his recovery. 

“Lettie, I’ve heard the talking. I’m walking, talking, and eating, and they want to send me home soon. Where am i going to go? I have no apartment, no home, and they’re saying I have to have someone with me for a while. Without Anne, who will do that?” he began to worry about what his future looked like.

Lettie decides to take the plunge, and hoped for the best. “Actually, Carlyle...we all have been talking. Barnum,” she spits his name, “has proposed for you to come stay with him. Anne,” Philip’s intake of breath makes her worried. “Has been staying there as well. She’s...she’s been ill, as of late.” Lettie finishes, and waits for the explosion. 

“Anne’s been sick...and NOBODY’S TOLD ME?!” he yelled. 

“Calm down, Carlyle, before you attract more attention.”

Philip laughs, but there’s no humor. It’s cold and unfeeling. “Right. More attention.” he turns away from Lettie, and falls silent. 

“They’re talking about sending you home tomorrow, Philip. Barnum’s going to need to know.” 

“I’ll stay there. Not like I have a choice, really.” he responds irritably. 

“I’ll go call on him, check on Anne, and then return?” she phrased it as a question, but it’s not like she was actually asking for his permission. He waves a loose hand. 

Why hadn’t anyone told him?!


	7. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So our favorite couple is back together, this is really anne-centric, and also i’m Sorry.

The day Philip is discharged is bittersweet. He’d planned for it to be him and Anne, going through the streets and thrilled to be back together. Instead, he has Charity and PT, and an awkward carriage ride that he tries not to grimace too often through. 

When they finally arrive, Philip cannot decide which order to get out the carriage so they didn’t see him struggling. It didn’t work, and PT still offers him a hand. He doesn’t take it, and flushes red from the embarrassment of it being offered at all. 

“Anne’s still not well. She’s getting better, but the time she spent ill without anyone knowing has been detrimental. I can barely get WD away.” Charity says conversationally. 

Philip winces. It should have been him that noticed, should have been him who was taking care of Anne while she was ill. Instead, she had to take care of him while she was ill herself. 

Charity continues. It was clear she was used to one-sided conversations. “We’ve made up a room for you, just down the hall from Anne and WD, actually.” Philip winced again, and felt the anger from earlier come back with a new vengeance. 

“If it’s all the same, Mrs. Barnum, I’m somewhat tired.” Philip states. He’s not actually too tired, but he wants to see Anne. He figures this is the best way to do it. 

Charity, however, is a smart woman. “You wouldn’t want to see Anne before you rest?” she asked, feigning surprise. 

Philip blushes, knowing he’s been caught. “If she’s feeling up to it, yes, I would, rather.” he admits with a guilty look. 

Charity has to hold back a laugh. They were so obviously in love with each other. “Go on up, WD had me leave the door open. She's…” Charity trailed off, not sure how much to tell him. 

“Charity, I knew she would put up a fight to leave. What happened?” Philip had his suspicions, but he felt he needed to hear it. 

“She arrived, wouldn't talk to me, and every time WD was brought up or even around, she would scream like a banshee. When...when they came in, she ran. I don't know how, but WD followed her. She was so angry, Philip. I do hope you being here will help.” 

Charity was teary during this exchange, and Philip stepped forward and embraced her. “It's going to be alright. We're all here, and we're all okay.” 

Charity broke the embrace, and took his elbow. “Let's go see how our other patient is doing.” She said confidently. She led Philip up the stairs with a flourish. Stopping around a corner, she opened a door. Philip was slightly breathless behind her. He was...still working on his stamina. 

He stepped through the doorway hesitantly, and saw a familiar sight. Anne was curled on WD’s lap, sleeping. She was restless, but asleep.

WD brightened when he saw the familiar face through the door. “When...how...what...oh thank God.” he pushed out. 

Philip smiled. 

WD continues, taking a moment to put this words together. “She’ll be thrilled you're here. She's been improving slowly. She's still so, so thin, and throwing up half of what she eats.” 

Philip's smile turned to a concerned frown. “Really?” he asked. It made him so sad to see that she had ignored herself for him. 

WD looked at him, searching his face, his body language. “Here, come sit, Philip.” He offered. 

Philip walked over carefully and took the chair by the bed that had been Charity’s. He and WD studied the pattern of the carpet for an extended period of time before one of them spoke. 

“Did you see those two new universities had a rowing competition?” Philip asks. “Yale and Harvard, both had rowing teams and competed. Against each other.” 

WD raises an eyebrow. “And why would I follow that?” he asked, but there was no venom behind his voice. 

Philip blushes deeply, it should’ve occured to him.

They go back to studying the pattern in the carpet, the awkwardness in the air growing by the moment. 

Anne begins to toss in WD’s arms, and him holding her tighter only seems to increase her distress. WD lets go, only supporting her, but her panic doesn’t decrease. Then she begins crying out, and Philip swears his heart is torn in two, even though he thought nothing could be worse than her cries when she was carried out of the hospital. She’s crying out his name, begging him to come out come back, please, don’t leave. 

Philip forgets his own pain and embraces her, holding her to him. WD has ceded this to him quickly, sensing Philip could improve it better than he. 

Philip began to talk in a low voice. “Anne, I’m here. You’re alright, darling. I did come back to you, and we’re going to live forever, the king and queen of the circus…” philip continues talking, and WD feels like he’s intruding on a private moment. He considers trying to leave them alone, but the desperate look Philip gives him changes his mind. 

Anne is still crying, her body wracked with sobs and her face twisted in fear. “Philip, no, Philip, please, Philip, Philip!” She cries out. Forget his heart breaking, there it was, ripped into pieces on the bed around him. 

“Anne, I’m here. I’m right here.” He speaks directly in her ear. She continues to fight him, but he settles her into a position against his chest, much like she did him in the hospital. She stops struggling, and her words fade to a whisper. They’re still falling from her mouth, like pleas. “Anne, I’m here. Come back to me, now it’s your turn.” 

Philip feels something wet and cold pressed into his hand. He recoiled initially, but then understands the intent behind it. He begins to softly wipe her face, the tear tracks fading, and he only notices then how hot she is. How warm her skin is, but how thin she feels under his hands. He holds back his own tears, realizing how dangerous this situation really was. 

The cold seems to bring her back to reality, and she startles. She gasps, and pulls away from Philip and shoving him backwards. He grasps her hand, and she keeps trying to pull away. “Anne, it’s me.” He says softly. 

She finally, finally opens her eyes and turns to him, and fresh tears fall from her eyes. “Philip...Philip?” The first is an exhalation of his name, barely a whisper, and the second is a question, like she can’t believe it. 

“It's me. I'm here. We're okay.” He speaks slowly, carefully. 

Anne still doesn't believe him, and this is what breaks his heart. She shakes her head forcefully, but leans back towards him. “Stay, Philip. Please?” Her voice is so small, Philip can’t help but think how she sounds like a lost child. 

“Of course. I’m right here. I always will be.” He promises.   
—  
Anne is back in the fire. This time, she’s watching philip run into the inferno, away from her, away from his life. He never had cared about his own life, he never would, she felt. It didn’t stop her heart from crying out to follow him. She couldn’t, there was someone holding her, and every time she fought them, they held her tighter. 

Suddenly they loosened, and it felt like someone else was holding her. It felt familiar, like she’d felt it before. It was caring, and loving, but it couldn’t have been Philip. Philip. He was still in there. 

“PHILIP! Philip, come back, please,” she begged, “come back! PHILIP!” She screamed until she was hoarse. 

She didn’t know how, but he was holding her, behind her, whispering to her. “Anne, I’m here. I’m right here.” She can hear his heart beating, and she stops fighting it. It’s him, she can tell. But...he’s still inside? “Philip, please, come back, please, don’t leave me.” She whispers over and over again, hoping it would bring him to her again. 

His voice is at her ears again. “Anne, I’m here. Come back to me, now it’s your turn.” 

Come back? From where? They were both here, didn’t he see it? He was trapped and she was being held by him at the same time. The juxtaposition was odd, given, but they were already together. 

Something cold is wiping her face, and it’s uncomfortable, but it feels...good? She can feel it cleaning the tears off her face as quickly as she can produce them.

Then she wakes, seeing the bedroom at the Barnum’s instead of the fire and destruction. She pulls away from whoever was holding her and shoves, hard, against them. A hand grasps hers anyways, and she turns. 

It’s not who she expected to see. “Philip…” she breathes. It couldn’t be. “Philip?” She asks. It couldn’t be true, he was in the hospital, she’d been carried away from him, fighting, and so, so tired. 

“It's me. I'm here. We're okay.” He speaks slowly, carefully.

It couldn’t be, but the dream was so nice, she couldn’t be bothered to protest. She leaned back towards him, content to lie with him in her dreams, and asks him “Stay, Philip. Please?”

“Of course. I’m right here. I always will be.” He promises. 

She tries to sleep, how odd, she thinks, trying to sleep in a dream, and after only a little while someone shakes her back awake. It’s WD. She’s still mad at him, but he would have to do, since Philip wasn’t here. 

“Anne,” Philip’s soft, warm voice envelopes her. “Can you try to eat? Please?” There’s a begging tone to his voice. For Philip, she’d try. 

WD lifts the spoon to her mouth, and she almost gags. It still made her ill to even smell food. “Anne, you know the deal. At least half.” He says it in the best balance of forceful and compassionate Philip had ever heard. 

Anne involuntarily allows a few tears to slip out. She didn’t want to, dammit, but everyone kept making her. She couldn’t, didn’t anyone get that?! The spoon slipped past her lips, unbidden, and she unhappily swallowed. The routine hadn’t changed in the days this had been going on, so she knew if she spit it out there’d just be more waiting. A soft hand ran through her hair. “Just a few more bites, darling.” Philip’s voice warmed her more than a blanket had for days. She grimaced, but swallowed again. 

Her stomach began to protest again. “Please, no more.” She begged through tears. She was tired of throwing up. She felt a head shake against hers. 

“Alright. Maybe a few minutes before more. It’s alright.” Philip responded. “Try some water, at least.” He said kindly. Anne cried miserably. It wouldn’t stay down, what’s the point. She sipped it carefully, and turned her head into Philip. 

“A’done.” She pouted. 

SOmeone was laughing above her, but she couldn’t care. No more, she was tired of being sick.   
—  
Philip’s heart broke when WD told her it was time to eat. She was so resistant to the idea, and Philip could tell that it was a struggle for both of the siblings. 

WD put the spoon in her mouth, despite her protests, and he nearly started crying when she did. 

Philip tried to help by running a hand through her hair, asking he for one more bite. 

She did it, but then begged they didn’t give her more. He couldn’t not give in, and acquiesced to her request. 

“Try some water at least.” He asked her. Anne just cried. He couldn’t take it anymore. When she announced she was all done, more like a young child, he smiled. Even WD was laughing. 

Anne was sleeping before he spoke again. “Has she always been like this?”

WD smiled. “If you’re asking if she’s always been grumpy when she’s sick, yes. It’s funny now, but it’s only when she’s been down for a while that she actually starts this. That puts a lot into perspective.” His voice had sobered by the end. 

Philip’s first instinct was to apologize. “I didn’t...I’m sorry.” He stumbled out. 

WD shook it off. “It’s alright. You look exhausted. Do you need help to your room?” 

Philip hadn’t even realized how tired he felt. “Probably, but...i don’t want to leave.” He admitted.

WD rolled his eyes. These two…”Stay here. There’s room for two in the bed.” He indicated. Realizing Philip wasn’t going to take the offer without action, he walked around the bed to him. “Up.” He stated as he lifted Philip to his feet. “Jacket and shoes.” He indicated the chair and the edge of the bed for each item. 

Philip raised an eyebrow, but complied. He was tired, and this was probably beneficial for both of them. He put his coat and shoes where he’d been ordered, and slipped into the end next to her. 

“Sleep, Philip.” WD said.

He did.


	8. Improvement?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is improving, everyone is hurting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another angsty chapter, written while @overlycompensatedapprentice was flying to SF. Go read her stuff and leave her lots of kudos when she gets off the plane! Super angsty, warning.

Philip woke with a gasp, which led to a coughing fit. If he’d been able, he would have rolled his eyes. He felt solid smacks on his back, helping to dislodge the goo. 

It stopped, in time, and Philip really did roll his eyes this time. “Thank you, WD.” He said, exasperation tingeing his tone. 

“Anytime.” He responded.

Philip decided to address the elephant in the room. “She still can’t eat. What can we do?” 

WD looked at him warily, and said what Philip was thinking. “Well, we’ve been here before. This time, though, we have help.” 

Philip raised an eyebrow. “Do share with the class, Mr. Wheeler.”

“Well, Charity and PT are willing to help us. They’ve already called a doctor once, there has to be someone who can help. It’s been just over 2 weeks, and even i can tell it’s getting dangerous. She can’t eat, and is barely lucid anymore. She won’t even believe you’re really here.” 

Philip considered it. “I think we need to talk to Charity and Phineas.”  
—  
They all sat around the bed, with the exception of Philip. He was propped up by pillows, and not exactly happy about it, either. 

“We should probably call on a doctor, at least. She can’t keep anything down, and what she does keep down isn’t enough.” Charity spoke first, once the problem had been presented. It wasn’t that they didn’t know it already, it was they needed to see all the issues and attempt to treat them together. 

“There’s nothing the hospital can do, is there? They don’t have any remedies that we can’t use here.” Philip pipes up. It wouldn’t be his favorite idea, putting Anne in the hospital, and he knew she wouldn’t like it either. And he had no desire to go back there, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away. 

WD sat there. He was exhausted too. He’d run himself ragged trying to care for his sister, and he had nothing left in him. 

“WD, she’s your sister. What do you want to do?” Charity asked kindly. 

WD shook his head. This wasn’t his specialty, even though it was his little sister. 

“Phin, do you have any ideas?” She asked next. 

PT shook his head. He hadn’t dealt with something of this magnitude either. 

Philip spoke into the silence. “I think we need to call a new doctor, not the one WD told me about. We need to bring her fever down first, i think. It’s the real concern right now.” By the time he was finished, his voice had dropped to a whisper, but everyone heard him, and agreed. That would be their first course of action.   
—  
When the doctor arrived, a new one this time, he walked in and stopped short. 

WD turned a stony glare on him. “What?” He practically growled. If this man thought he was going to discriminate against his sister, he had another thing coming. 

“Nothing, not that at all, i didn’t expect to see Mr. Carlyle here, nor have i seen anyone in quite this state. What were you told last time?” He stumbled over his words, and attempted to apologize profusely. 

“We were told it was just a fever.” Charity replied. “He said there was nothing he could do.” 

“Well, it’s clearly a fever, but there is more to it. Has she eaten?” The doctor replied.

WD shook his head. “Practically nothing. She throws up half of what she eats, or doesn’t eat at all. She always hated throwing up.” 

Philip lets a small smile flicker across his face. It sounded like her. She always tried to be invincible. 

The doctor had continued, unaware of Philip’s thoughts. “At this point, there’s something i can try, but it hasn’t been approved.” He looked around, taking stock of who was agreeing, and if there was any protest. 

“Wait.” It was philip who said it, but he could tell everyone was thinking it. “WD, she’s your sister, you get the final say. You say no, we try something else.”

WD looked lost. Charity walked over to him, rubbing a hand across his shoulders. She looked at the Doctor. “Please, excuse us a moment.” She said as she led WD out the door.   
—  
Charity leads WD into a room down the hallways, away from prying eyes and ears. WD, now more familiar with Charity Barnum that he felt he had any right to be, hovered by the door. Taking the bull by the horns, she stepped over to him. 

“Talk to me, please.” She said beseechingly. 

“I-I don’t know, anymore, what to do. At first, it was easy, keep her safe, keep us safe, and take care of her, always. I’m trying, still, but...it’s so hard.” He whispers the ending, as if keeping his shame quiet will dispel it completely.

Charity embraced him, and WD crumbled. They sank to the floor, WD’s knees buckling beneath him. “It’s...so hard..trying to do the right thing...and knowing...it might be dangerous...it’s been...my job, my...my entire life. Keep Annie safe, mama said. Keep Annie safe.” He whispers it a few times, as if using it to come to his decision. He doesn’t cry, per say, but tears slip out unbidden. 

A few moments later, he looks at Charity. “I think i know, but i have questions.” He states uncertainly.

Charity looks at him. “Ready to go back, then?” 

WD nods determinedly. This was his job, his life's work. He could do it.   
—  
They re-enter the room, to find Anne sobbing in Philip’s arms. She was still sleeping, but she was hysterical. The doctor looks at a loss, but concerned, and Philip is riding the knife’s edge of panic. “It just...started. She was sleeping, and suddenly she was crying. I didn’t do anything, nobody did.” Philip rushes out. 

WD goes over to them. He thinks, fleetingly, that the doctor must think he’s in way over his head. He notices the way her mouth is moving, and leans in close, inviting Philip to do the same. They hear the whispers. It’s the same thing she’d been saying for days. “Philip, she’s dreaming again.” 

The doctor stepped over, a vial in his hand, a needle already prepped within it. “If I may?” 

WD, seeing there was no choice, stepped back. Philip held her, still, and adjusted in case she bucked. 

When the needle was inserted under the skin, they anticipated a reaction that never came. Philip could’ve sworn his heart stopped. She was so out of it she didn’t notice. 

The doctor went to Phineas and Charity, speaking in low tones to them. They were nodding, and both got up to show him out, leaving Philip and WD, and Anne, alone. 

Philip was shaking. He’d seen Anne sniffly, he’d seen her a little ill, but never could he have imagined this. He sat with her in his arms, rocking her back and forth. He wasn’t crying, but his pale features were a far cry from his normal complexion. 

“Philip?” WD asked tentatively. He reached out, putting a hand on Philip’s shoulder, and he could feel how the man was trembling. “Philip.” It was more forceful and insistent. 

Philip turned a ghost-white face towards him, the fear showing plainly. “I...I can’t…” he stumbled out, gasping. 

WD assessed who need his attention first. He turned to Philip. “Philip, breathe in when I do, out when i do.” He pulled a hand against his chest, and dramatically breathed in. 

They stayed that way, and Philip’s breathing evened out. He smothered a couple small coughs, and choked out “Thank you”. 

They sat in silence, the afternoon light deepening and turning the room brilliant colors of orange and red, and Philip was sure he fell asleep at some point. A gasp from his arms wakes him with a start.   
—  
“Anne?” WD asks. 

“WD...where...are we?” She’s so confused, she last remembers being carried out of the hospital. 

“Anne?” He asks again. 

“WD...where are we?” She repeats. 

He sighs heavily. “We’re at the Barnum’s. We’ve been here for several days. You..you really don’t remember?” 

She searches her memory, but all she remembers is dreaming. Philip being trapped, WD leaving her, someone taking her things, being so, so cold. She shakes her head. 

“Anne, are you...do you want something to eat?” He asks hesitantly. 

Anne thinks, sluggishly. She was tired, but thirsty. “Tea?” She asks in a small voice. 

WD brightens, she’s not sure why, when she asks. “I’ll go for charity right away. Are you two alright?” 

You two? What…it occurs to her there’s still a body behind her. She looks up, surprised. And then she starts to cry. 

“Philip...you’re...here, and...ok..and...how, when why?” She stumbles over her words trying to get them all out. 

“A couple days ago...you don’t remember?” He asks. The heartbreak is clear in his voice. 

“I remember...you, running in...being trapped...but you...holding me.” She said slowly. She was still so tired. “Philip...wake me...when...tea?” She tries to say, but it comes out even slower. 

“Of course. Sleep, Anne. I’m not leaving.” 

She does.

Philip sits and considers her. Whatever the doctor had given had had lowered her temperature, at least for now. With the comfort of knowing they were all healing, he arranged them on the pillows so they were comfortable. Unbidden, his eyes shut.

WD laughed at the sight they made when he returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So doing research for this stalled it, and so i kind of went with a vague sort of something, but what he gives Anne was acetanilide, which human bodies synthesize into Acetominophen (paracetamol). It lowers fevers, which as we saw was the main focus. Please review!


	9. Going up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Barnum kids showed up, making everyone a lil happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so, so stuck on this one. I have a plan for the next few, never fear. Huge shoutout to Professor Google and @overlycompensatedapprentice for their help with this chapter.

WD woke early, but that wasn’t unusual. It was his habit, after so many years. He stood and stretched, feeling the knots ease some. He glanced over to the bed to check on Philip and Anne. Seeing them peacefully sleeping, he eases his way out of the room. He’s loathe to wake either of the bodies in bed, as they haven’t been sleeping well without each other. 

He uses the same light feet to make his way down the stairs, desperately attempting not to wake anyone. Stopping to retrieve his coat from the hook by the door, he regards the ornate main entryway, and resolves to find a less prominent way out of the house. He was beginning to feel trapped. 

Once outside, the first thing he does is take a deep breath. He enjoys the smell of the wet dew, the flowers, and most of all, just being outside. It’s far less suffocating. He begins to wander aimlessly along a path that brings him further and further from the house. Reaching a stand of trees, he turns. With the freedom from the four walls of Anne’s room comes the need for movement and he feels jittery, like a live wire, from not doing acrobatics in weeks. Ensuring he is well hidden from windows, he begins a series of stretches, progressing to basic tricks he can perform without his sister or a trapeze setup. He thinks of a song he’s heard, and begins to put movement to it, and loses track of time. It’s only when he spies a blonde braid around back of a tree that he stops. 

“Helen?” he asks timidly. Though she was still a little kid, she had a personality as large as Barnum himself. 

She peeks out from behind the tree, blushing as red as her father’s coat. “That was way cool. Can you teach me?!” she asked eagerly. 

WD hesitated. “Where’s Caroline?” he asked by way of response.

Helen rolled her eyes. “Dancing in the entryway a-gain. It’s all she does!” 

WD laughed. “Maybe we should ask your parents before i start teaching you.” he redirected. 

“Oh-kay” Helen sighed. Sometimes grown ups did NOT understand the point of secrets.   
\---  
The odd pair returned to the house, Helen expertly leading him to the kitchen where her parents were. “Mama mama mama WD said he’ll teach me tricks like him and Anne!” Helen exclaimed. 

Charity raised a bemused eyebrow, her gaze rotating between WD and Helen. 

WD rushed to his own defense. “She saw me in the garden and asked me and I said we had to ask you first.”

Charity laughed, and WD was puzzled. Wasn’t she mad?

“Helen, much like her father, often puts the train ahead of the zebra.” At WD’s confused look, she continued. “She often has grand ideas, and puts them into place without consulting anyone else, even those who are involved. It usually is the cart before the horse, but at their scale, it’s more like a train and a zebra.” 

WD nodded, beginning to understand. “Helen, I would love to teach you, but you still need to ask your mom and dad.”

Helen looked at Charity beseechingly. “Please, mommy?” she folded her hands under her chin, sticking out a bottom lip. 

“We’ll talk later, Helen.” There’s an edge to her voice, and it makes WD uneasy. He knows Charity is a kind, patient woman, but whatever is giving her this edge to her voice makes him incredibly nervous. 

Helen slouches out of the room, obviously disappointed in the lack of action from her mother. 

Charity turns towards WD, the tension eased from her shoulders and a smile upon her face. “What brings you down here, WD?” she asked. The airy, kind quality had returned and the exasperation is nowhere to be found.

He considered his answer carefully. “I woke up early, they were alright, and so I...I just took a walk in the garden. Helen found me working on something stupid. She brought me back in here.” 

Charity put a warm hand on his shoulder. “Are you hungry? I’ve just finished fixing toast for Philip and Anne, I can make something more for you if you’d like.” 

The reminder of why he was a welcome guest in this home gives him pause. “Are they alright?” he asks worriedly. He avoids answering the question, whatever they were having would be fine for him. 

“I haven’t heard a peep from them, i was going to go wake them if you’d like to join me. Oh, could you bring that vial with you? The doctor left it for us, for Anne.” 

WD swipes it off the counter, and they made their way out the door.   
\---  
When they walk into the room, Philip begins to stir. He groaned, he so was not ready to be awake yet. 

“Good morning.” A teasing voice came from the doorway. 

Philip looks up to see WD smiling. He returns it with a wry grin. “Ugh...morning.” He groans out. 

Charity had made her way over to the bed, checking on Anne. “Her fever’s gone up again.” She said. 

Philip turned to her. “Anne, darling, it’s time to wake. Charity’s brought breakfast.” He watched her eyes shift beneath their lids, and continued calling to her until they opened to foggy slits. “Good morning, dear.” He said kindly. 

Anne seemed to wave a hand and tried to roll over. 

“Nope, sit up.” He chided. 

She pouted at him. “No.” She said, whiny. 

Philip didn’t find it nearly as funny this time. “Anne, you need to eat.” He said forcefully. 

Anne wrinkled her nose, but allowed herself to be sat up and supported by WD. A piece of toast was placed in her hand. “Eat, Annie.” WD pleaded. Anne took a bite, swallowed hard, and put it down. Philip watched a silent exchange between WD and Charity, and looked to Charity’s hand. He saw the vial, with the needle inside, and sighed. He had a feeling this was going to become routine. He took a seat in front of her, holding her hands. WD wrapped himself around her arms, and she tried to free herself. WD let go immediately. Philip embraced her. 

“Philip...why?” She asked through her tears. 

Philip’s voice was thick when he replied. “For you to be better, to go back to trapeze, and for us.” He said. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he wanted his Anne back. 

Anne shook her head against him. “No, please don’t.” She begged. 

A tear slips out. “We have to.” He said. He nodded to WD, who just held her still. She cried out when Charity gave her the injection, and WD had never wanted to run away from a situation, taking Anne with him, more than he did then. But he couldn’t. It was for her, for her health, for her safety. 

Anne turned herself around in Philip’s arms. “Get out!” She yelled at WD. She watched him go, and turned herself back around. 

They sat like that for hours. Anne eventually cried herself back to sleep. Philip sat and watched the shadows stretch across the room. He ate the toast Charity had brought. He was finally beginning to feel hunger again. He was improving, slowly, but he knew he had a while to go. He decided Anne had the right idea, and made himself comfortable next to her.  
—  
Charity closed the door behind them after Anne had unceremoniously thrown them out. 

WD let out a long, shaky breath. “Does that mean she’s improving?” He asked quietly. 

Charity ran a warm hand down his arm. “She will be. Have faith, WD. We know the medication works. And don’t count me out yet, i have tricks to stimulate an appetite. I’m a mom.” 

WD smiled. Maybe it would be alright. 

“I think now would be a wonderful time for Helen’s new lessons?” He asked carefully. 

Charity laughed. “I’ve created monsters!” She cries, acting desperate. “Go ahead, but please be careful!” She begged. 

She laughed when, a short time later, she watched WD carry Helen out the big front door over his shoulder, blonde hair flying everywhere. They would be okay. They would rebuild, and recover. 

It was the first time in weeks she was confident it would be alright.


	10. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They thought they could almost get used to this, a new normal.
> 
> But recovery is always one step forwards, two steps back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is kind of a filler chapter but is also advancing our plot some. ANne and Philip are in love and the barnum children are completely adorable. Enjoy!

Over the next days, improvements were more obvious than before. Anne’s fever was coming down, aided by the medication given by the doctor. She was lucid more often, and Charity’s varieties of tea and broths helped stimulate her appetite, and she was eating more. It was still a struggle, and she still gagged near the end of every meal, but more was going down before that point. She was sleeping less, and more like herself when she was awake. Charity almost dared to breathe a sigh of relief that there was improvement with regards to Anne. 

Philip, by extension, had been getting the rest prescribed by the doctors and nurses at the hospital. Anne hadn’t let him leave her side since she discovered he was there. Thankfully, he wasn’t particularly interested in that line of activity. However, the lack of physical activity was taking its toll on him. His legs were cramped, and his knees were murder. The goop in his lungs had settled, as well, and he was back to his hacking, crouping cough he’d left the hospital with. That was not an improvement. Charity had obtained some menthol oil and mixed it with wax, letting it set. Every so often, she heated it and rubbed the warm wax on his chest. It loosened the congestion, but the coughing was still so hard he was worn out afterwards. The obvious solution was to get him moving around again, but Anne wasn’t ready for that level of exercise, and wouldn’t let go of him. Even with WD there, she clung to Philip, coherent or not. It was...rough.   
\---  
It’s Charity, as well as the doctor whom they’ve called to reevaluate Anne, who deems that small walks outdoors will help, not hinder, her recovery. It’s not 2 hours later that WD is supporting Anne, with help from Philip, out the door. WD is wringing his empty hand, and to be honest, Philip is concerned too. 

Charity is trailing behind them, trying to be reassuring. “The doctor said as long as we don’t go too far, both of you will be alright.” 

Philip smiles. His knees are already feeling better, and the cramps in his legs are subsiding. He follows WD’s lead, wandering through the garden, and comes to a stand of trees, with an oddly convenient bench. They settle onto it and WD continues to wander, but charity stays with them. Anne is trying to get under Philip’s skin through sheer force of will, even though she’s wrapped in a woolen winter shawl and her woolen dress, courtesy of WD. It also wasn’t that cold out, but they were paranoid. 

“Philip, please don’t leave.” She whispers. Philip frowns. She hadn’t said that in a day or so, he thought they’d gotten past this. He supposed not. 

“Anne, i won’t. I don’t have any plans to anytime soon. And i think WD has been getting more creative with his ideas if i do.” This causes Anne to smile, and Charity, sensing the gravity of the conversation, runs a hand across Philip’s shoulders, and a hand down the back of Anne’s head, before walking away. 

Philip maneuvered her so she was facing him, and held her face between his hands. He gazed into her clear, fever-free, teary eyes, and spoke with conviction. “I love you, Anne Wheeler, with all of my heart. I will never leave you. I’d have to leave a piece of my heart behind. Somehow, you flew into my heart and made yourself rather comfortable there. You’re my star, my beautiful, talented, amazing girl. And i can’t wait until we’re back onstage so i can show you how much i love you every night, and i can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” 

Anne is crying, weeping, a sound which brings WD swinging out of a tree nearby (had he heard everything? Philip hoped not.) and running to his sister. 

“Anne? Anne, what’s wrong? Are you alright? Are you sick?” WD lets the questions tumble out one after the other. Philip almost finds it laughable, if they all hadn’t been through what they had the last several weeks. 

Anne looked at him, drawing in a deep breath. “I’m alright, WD. I’m okay.” She said. She took his hands, stilling them from roaming across her looking for injury. 

WD looked at her, looking into her eyes, looking for any feverish glaze or injury. Finding nothing, he embraced her tightly. She was still so small beneath him. A shiver ran through her, and WD declared it time to go in. SHe had just gotten better. HE was not risking anything.   
—  
Since everyone was up and moving more often, they took their meals in a small kitchenette area. The movement was getting Anne used to moving again, and stretching Philip’s muscles. The meals were custom to each, no doubt Charity’s doing. Anne was still eating small meals, and often still broth and bread. Her soups were beginning to have soft, filling vegetables in them. Philip was becoming hungrier after every day, and his plate reflected it as well. He’d been getting thicker, heartier soups and sometimes a small cut of meat. His stomach was still touchy. WD’s plate often reflected what the household was having for dinner, with hearty meats, thick bread, and sweet, buttery vegetables. WD and Anne both felt awkward about Charity putting herself and her staff out for their comfort. 

Often, Helen and Caroline joined them for dinner. They got up too early to join breakfast, and they were at school for lunch. But they loved dinner just as much as the three performers did. They would tell stories, joke, and laugh. It was the highlight of their day. 

Usually there were a couple of hours between dinner and bedtime, and Helen and WD would go out to the garden, to a wide, open space, under charity’s orders, and he would teach her different tricks, always being mindful of her size and inexperience. AFter a few days, Charity had a bench discreetly placed nearby, and Philip and ANne would sit together and watch them, clapping when Helen mastered a new move. It was nice. 

All of them thought they could get used to this new normal. But recovery has always been one step forward, two steps back.


	11. Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip is recovering, and physically, he can feel it. Mentally? He's not ready to admit it. And he gets caught in his lies...a few times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has been bouncing around for a while, and with a little push, i've decided to combine it since it dovetails ever so nicely. The next several chapters should be fairly Philip-centric, unless they decide there's something else they need to work out. Enjoy!

Philip won’t admit he’s still recovering. Sometimes it’s all he can do to lay and breathe in his bed, or sit and breathe in the chair by the window. He hasn’t let on to Anne that he’s still terrified to light a candle, and tries to sit in the light from the sun and read a book instead of trying to. It helps that the barnum’s have servants, who light candles when it gets dark. It saves him from having to try. He puts on a brave face when she’s around, jovial and joking, trying to hide coughs in his sleeve and hiding exhaustion by pulling a chair around and watching her wherever she is. If she’s on the couch, he sits next to her, holding onto her, breathing. She’s been helping WD with Helen’s lessons as she’s improved, and he sits on the bench, watching her. He plays it as love, instead of not being able to stand for long periods. 

He's able to keep the charade up until Anne declares one day she needs to go out. She decides to take a stroll to the lake, a change of scenery for the both of them. He’s tired of the same four walls, and the garden only has so many private spaces within the constraints of his stamina. It’s only down the road, he thinks, so he agrees. Getting dressed takes longer than he’d like to admit, but he refuses help from his darling, didn’t want her to know how weak he still was. Bending over to pull his pants to his waist steals his breath and send waves of pain from his still healing burns. He involuntarily lets out a small gasp, and Anne calls out to him, standing outside the door anxiously. 

“Philip? Are you alright?” 

He can hear the concern lacing her voice. He hates it. He doesn’t want to be sick anymore, doesn’t want to need the help of others to do the simplest tasks. “I’m fine, love.” He calls out. He doubts she heard him. His shout was more like a speaking voice, and caused him to cough still, he thought bitterly. He came out ready to go, except for his shoes that Anne insisted that they kept by the door as not to track dirt and mud and sawdust through the house. He wasn’t sure how he was going to put those on without arousing suspicion. He would try.   
—  
They were halfway to the lake when Philip realized his mistake. He was already struggling for breath through the dirty air of the outside, even this deep into the countryside, and the exertion was doing him no favors. Without thinking about it, he put a heavy hand on Anne’s shoulder for support. 

She stopped instantly and took stock of their location. They were close enough to the Barnum’s that they could stop their stroll and go back. She looked over Philip and noted the heaving breaths, ashen color creeping onto his skin and the sweat pooling on his forehead. Why had he agreed to this walk if he was still so ill? Anne had never wanted to shake someone as hard as she wanted to shake him in that moment. She was frustrated with his inability to admit his illness and need for recovery. She takes his arm gently and turns them back towards the Barnum’s. 

When he realizes the direction they’re walking, he’s not sure how to feel. He’s relieved, but at the same time frustrated. Was it too much to ask that he take a walk, alone, with Anne? He didn’t remember much else, other than coming up the drive to the Barnum’s.

It took all Anne had to not scream as Philip dropped to the ground. “Dammit, Philip.” she muttered. Her mother would’ve been angry to hear her swear, but there was nobody here. She looked up to see a small body ,hair streaming out behind them, running towards her. “Caroline!” she called out. “Go get WD. NOW!” she yelled urgently. 

Caroline began sprinting in the other direction, and Anne could hear her voice calling out desperately. Anne turns her attention to Philip. “Philip, please wake up, i can’t do this again, please wake up.” she whispered. She hears two sets of feet running down the gravel driveway, and looks up. A sigh of momentary relief escapes her. It’s WD and Barnum. She thinks, only for a moment, of the hilarity of this. WD and PT. 

“What happened?” WD asked anxiously. 

Anne shook her head to clear her thoughts. “We were walking to the lake, to get a change of scenery. I thought he’d been doing so much better, and he agreed. I noticed he was pale, and breathing really heavily. I turned us around, and next thing I know, he’s passed out and Caroline is running towards us and…” Her words start to come faster and faster, and WD recognizes the signs of his sister beginning to panic. 

WD embraces her thin frame. “It’s alright. It’s going to be alright. We’re gonna take care of him, and you, and it’s going to be al-right.” He drags out the last word, coupling it with a soothing hand over the back of her head. 

What a mess.  
\---  
Barnum hates the feeling of déjà vu that comes with having to carry Philip again. He feels as if he’s done it too many times. Twice is too many times. He deposits him gently in bed, and begins to take off his coat. A pair of warm hands still his. He looks over, and sees his Beautiful, caring charity standing there. Taking a moment, he embraces her.   
\---  
Philip comes to his sense sometime later, and groans when he realizes he’s back in the bedroom. He keeps his eyes closed, and takes stock of the situation. There’s a small, cold body next to him. Anne, he thinks. She never had been able to warm herself up properly. He’s propped up on pillows, and he can feel the crick in his neck coming back full force. 

“Anne...WD….Barnum…?” he says weakly. He doesn’t want to be alone, can’t handle being alone. 

“I’m right here Philip. I always will be.” Anne’s southern lilt comes out to play, and he rolls his head towards her. 

“What...happened?” he asks.

It’s like flipping a switch. 

“We went for a walk. Halfway down the block, you could barely breathe. I got us turned around, and you...you collapsed, in the drive.” she said quietly. The anger was evident. 

He swallowed hard, embarrassed, as she kept going. 

“You’re not the only one affected by what happened to you. You’re not the only one who still bears fears and scars from that night. So stop acting like you’re fine. You’re not, clearly, and you need to accept that. So STOP!” She spits the last word at him, and her volume has risen with every word. The shout probably could have been heard from the gate. He looks down, a chastised schoolboy instead of ringmaster. 

“I’m...I’m sorry, Anne. I’m just...tired of not being ok. I do the exercises, i do the practice, and i’m still as weak as a foal. I’m just so frustrated.” There. He’s admitted it. He’s not proud of it, but he’s admitted it. He’s admitted to the frustration and anger and annoyance that is being ill after so long. He’s just...done. 

Anne crawls onto the bed next to him, and wraps herself around him like a cat. “I can't lose you again.” she whispers.  
\---  
Unfortunately, Anne’s not the only one who’s frustrated with him. Charity offhandedly mentions that she and Phineas would love to have a private dinner with him that evening. 

His stomach sinks, though he’s not sure why. He can make several assumptions.   
\---  
He really hates when he’s right. That night, he’s dressed in clothes he hasn’t had reason to wear since the night of the fire. His coat is tighter than he remembers. He feels like he’s choking. Unfortunately, this isn’t an unusual sensation to him anymore. 

He takes his time (at least, that’s what he tells himself) to get to the dining room. Charity and Phineas are already seated, and chatting lightly while they wait for him. He takes a moment to straighten his posture and adjust his jacket before he does a poor imitation of a confident stroll into the dining room. His attempted facade is not helped by the way he practically collapsed into his chair in relief. 

The butler comes through, asking what they would like to drink, and out of habit Philip orders a shot of whiskey. 

The silence is astounding. 

He looks around. Charity is at an interesting cross of angry and concerned, and PT...PT looks ready to blow his top. 

“Philip will have tea.” Phineas ground out between clenched teeth. The butler disappeared. He didn’t want to know what was going on. 

Phineas turned on Philip. “Are you….SERIOUS...right now?!” he yelled. He’d made sure the girls had eaten and would be on the other side of the home for this, as he’d had a sinking suspicion it wouldn’t end well. “You ran into a goddamned fire, not giving a DAMN about your own life, then that...STUNT...with the walk...and now...THIS?!” 

Philip is cowering in his chair. Phin sounded a lot like his father, right before...no. He wasn’t going to think about that right now. He had enough issues on his plate already, no pun intended. 

The rest of dinner was had in stony silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review!


	12. Anger

After his stunt with the walk, Charity, Barnum, and Anne had all insisted he was staying right where he was. 

“Really, it’s not necessary.” He tried to insist on the point, but nobody would budge. 

Charity and Barnum had left, shaking their heads about his stubborn nature. 

Anne rolled her eyes, and he caught the action. Usually he brushed it off, her attitude was nothing new to him, but this time it flared a spark of annoyance in him. “Why do you disregard me every time I say something? My opinion used to matter, used to mean something. I run into a fire, and all you see fit to do is roll your eyes when all i want to do is stay in my own damned house!” 

It takes him a moment, but he realizes that he’s taken it a step too far. He steps towards her, and she steps back, shaking her head. 

“Don’t. Don’t touch me. Come find me when your head is back where it belongs.” She fired on her way out the door. 

He stalks to the door, ignoring the burn it causes his lungs, and slams it so hard the windows rattle. It’s barely been closed for two minutes before WD slams it open again. “What’d you do? What’d you say, Carlyle?!” he demands. His quiet, controlled anger is almost more terrifying than the loud, violent version he was used to. 

He pauses for a minute, and answers, still as furious as he was when Anne walked out. “I SAID I wanted to stay in my OWN DAMN HOUSE and SHE rolled her EYES like I’m some petulant CHILD! I run into a FIRE for her and THAT’S the thanks I get?!” 

WD shakes his head. “That’s a new low, even for you.” he says evenly, frame still vibrating with anger. He closes the door gently when he leaves, and it makes Philip’s rage boil over. 

He buries his head in one of the sweet smelling pillows, and screams. He coughs and screams and, though he wouldn’t admit it if asked, cries for an unknown amount of time. He falls asleep, and his dreams are filled with fire, with screams and terror and Anne and she’s not there and she’s walking away from him and he sits up with a gasp. 

Charity is sitting on the end of his bed, wide eyed but lovingly. “We heard the argument before she walked out, and she didn’t stop so much as to say hello to the girls. It was unlike her, but she was so stiff and angry the girls skittered out of her way. Lover’s quarrel?” She asked quietly. From anyone else, the question would have renewed his anger, but Charity was a hard woman to get angry with. 

“I’m so angry I’m not well yet. I’m still struggling with the most basic of tasks, things i used to do daily without thought. Things like dressing, and breathing. It’s not damned FAIR!” He bellows. He’s so angry, so frustrated with how much help he still needs. 

Charity, wonderful and patient woman that she is, let him get it out before she embraces him. Her eyes widen with how he’s almost literally vibrating with anger, but she vows to help him through it. She’s just not sure how. “Philip, you know all of us are here for you, now and forever. The girls adore you, Phineas couldn’t keep this going without you, and you’re like my third child. We wouldn’t let you be left behind. We’re going to get you through this.” Philip relaxed into the tight embrace, grounding himself in the feel and smell of Charity Barnum.  
\---  
Unfortunately, it wasn’t all smooth sailing. As with everything, it was one step forward, two back. Every time Philip thought he was doing better, something happened that reminded him he was still not 100%. 

One day, he’s horsing around with Helen, swinging her around when suddenly he feels a sharp, lancing pain across his chest. That damned burn the he got was still healing. He hurriedly put Helen down with a peck to the cheek, and strode to his room. Though, striding would be being generous. It was more a slow walk with a clear anger behind it. He brushed off three different staff, much to his regret as he ran into who else but Barnum himself on the stairs. He wished he could have just avoided him, but it would figure that he couldn’t. He wanted to turn and run, run anywhere, but he could barely manage a walk through the house, let alone a run to escape from his own broken, weak, stupid body. 

“Need a hand?” Phineas asked kindly. He’s not surprised when he’s brushed off with a brusque shake of the head. Philip had always been independent, and being severly injured and so dependent on others for help that it had to be frustrating. Phineas didn’t know how it felt firsthand, but watching Philip was like watching one of his daughters being injured. It hurt him, too.  
\---  
Philip retreated back into his room, as he was still angry with Anne, and sat moodily in the armchair by the window. He’d had to have one of the staff move it for him, he would have gotten out of breath trying to drag it across the room. It took his addled brain too long to realize that he’d forgotten to grab the book he was in the middle of from his bedside table. He wanted to scream, wanted the throw something, and only the knowledge that there were others in the house, ones who would come running, kept the frustration in. Instead, he looked around him. There had to be some way to relieve the irritation that he was feeling.  
\--  
Charity and Barnum started at the sound of something crashing in philip’s room. Charity had made it to the stairs before Phineas caught up to her. He held her loosely and turned her towards him. “Let him go. He can’t hurt himself, i’ve made sure of it without him knowing. I knew this was coming, it has been since Anne stormed out that door. He’s angry and unable to do anything about it. This is better than him bottling it up.” 

Charity didn’t like the idea of leaving him alone, but understood her husband’s reasoning. “Perhaps, then, it would be a good time for me and the girls to go...out, for a bit?” She asked pointedly. 

Phineas nodded. That was probably best. The girls didn’t need to be scared by Philip. 

As Charity ushered the girls out of the house with promises of ice cream and dolls, Phineas made his way quietly up the stairs. He sat across the hall from Philip’s bedroom and waited for the sound to die down before he approached. When at last all he heard was gasping breaths, he knocked and acted like he’d only just arrived. “Philip?” he called warmly. “I’ve called for some tea, but Charity’s taken the girls out for the afternoon.” he continued, undeterred by the lack of answer. He knocked on the door, hopeful. Philip, red faced, but seemingly calmer, opened the door. Phineas noted blandly that it was less harsh than it had been the rest of his stay. 

“Tea?” he asked again simply. Philip rolled his eyes, but followed.  
\---  
A few days later, the incident seemed forgotten, and Philip’s mood had improved substantially. He’d also been able to make it up the stairs on his own, which was decidedly a step in the right direction. No matter it took him minutes, but it was unassisted. 

Philip was observing Caroline’s practice in the entryway one afternoon, having a fairly good day, and also trying to unobtrusively observe Anne, who thought she was being sneaky, swinging from the railings to stretch herself out. She didn't realize that WD was watching her from a floor below. 

“I’m thirsty!” Caroline declared. Philip laughed. Only Caroline could declare something like that with everyone around. 

She ran off, headed towards the kitchen. A knock on the door caught his attention, and he caught WD’s eye before he turned away, feeling the anger even from that distance. 

He opened the ornate doors, struggling a bit, and regretted the action as soon as he saw who was on the porch. 

“Mother. Father. What brings you here?” He asked, enraged. Who the hell did they think they were, showing up here?

His mother begins the farce she’s planned. “We heard about the fire, and realized that you had been hurt! When we found out why...we were ridden with guilt. We found out where you were staying, and came to make sure you were alright.” 

Philip nearly choked with how thickly they were laying it on. 

His father picked up the charade. “When we heard you went after that Wheeler girl, we were shocked! We thought you knew better, thought you were raised better than that!” 

Philip sees red, and WD isn’t far behind. He looks around to make sure that Caroline nor Helen are anywhere about, and stands up straight and looks at his father. “I believe I’ve already told you once you will NOT speak about Anne that way.” He feels a presence at his shoulder, and is buoyed by the confidence it gives him. “I believe, also, that I said I was done with this life. I am happy, and loved, in this life I’ve made. So if you don’t mind, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Philip should have known it wasn’t going to be that easy. 

As he spins on his heel, a heavy hand lands on his shoulder. He flinched, hard, and WD glimpsed, for a moment, the fear in his eyes. 

Philip's father tightened the hold on his son’s shoulders. “Run along, now.” He said haughtily, waving a hand to dismiss WD. 

The acrobat stood his ground. “If it’s all the same, sir, I think I’ll stay.” He said, deepening his tone and pulling up to his intimidating 6 foot height. Philip enjoyed the momentary fear that flashed across his father’s face. Served him right. 

“Father, mother, really, it’s been lovely. We really mustn’t do this again. Bye now.” Philip tried to get the last word, and a footfall in the entry behind him was the sweetest sound he’d heard. He didn’t know why Barnum had come, but here he was. 

“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Carlyle, never a pleasure. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to take your leave, as well as your hand off of him. He’s very sensitive, you know. Healing burns, and all? Have a nice day.” Barnum said, and pulled Philip backwards, out of his father’s grasp. The shocked couple took a step back, and Barnum took that opportunity to close the door on them. “Good riddance, I’d say. WD, do you mind getting Anne down from the banisters? She’s been up there enough, I think. Philip, a word?” 

Without further ado, Phineas led Philip up the stairs. Philip felt himself begin to shake, with anger or fear he doesn’t know. Phineas takes the moment to wrap his arm underneath Philip’s armpits, and supports him on the way up the stairs. Depositing him gently on the side of the bed, Philip flops backwards. It proves to be a bad idea as he rockets back up, coughing and gagging in equal measure. Phineas slips in behind him, rubbing soft circles between his shoulders and offering a few solid smacks to help loosen it. 

Philip shakes his head, trying to get the oxygen back into his body. He knows he’s a sight, with tears streaming down and face red as the ringmaster’s coat. He wondered, fleetingly, what had become of it. He’d last seen it before the fight broke out, and he thought he may have lost it in the melee of the fire. 

Phineas is talking to him, he realizes. “Philip? Philip, are you alright? Philip?” There’s an undercurrent of panic in his voice.  
“Yeah.” He coughs. “I’m fine.” He smothers a few smaller coughs in his sleeve. They sit together in silence, both reflecting on what’s happened. A solid knock on the door brings PT to his feet. When Philip sees WD on the other side of the door, he isn’t sure what to think. He remembered the last interaction with him, and how that had ended. PT nodded as he left them alone. 

“Just wanted to say thanks, for what you said. Means a lot. She’s still mad at you. I am too. Just hope this all doesn’t set both of you back.” He says somewhat awkwardly. They’d never been close, but Philip would have liked to think that the last weeks had changed things. WD left again, leaving Philip alone. “DAMMIT!” He yelled. If only there was something he could DO.

He felt a wave of exhaustion sweep over him. He rolled his eyes. He swore he slept more than he was awake.  
—  
A hand is shaking him awake after the lamps have been lit, and he comes to his senses with a gasp, which lead to a cough...the cycle had really gotten rather old by now. 

Once he’s righted his breathing, he looks around. It’s late, even he can tell, and it occurs to him that someone had woken him. He looks around and spots someone curled into the chair by the window. Even from here he can tell they're miserable. There's only one other person going around as miserable as he is. 

“Anne?” He questions softly. 

He forces himself up, ignoring how lightheaded it makes him. Once he thinks he's steady, he walks carefully over to the chair. Sure enough, she's curled into a ball, head buried in her knees. 

She doesn't look at him, doesn't give any indication of moving, but she starts to speak. “You said you loved me. Said you'd never hurt me.” She dragged in a breath, and it physically hurt Philip to hear how thick her voice was, how wet the breath was. “Then you did. I was angry, but now...I'm just hurt. And I want to forgive you, dammit, I do, but it's...really hard.” She began to cry, and Philip used the last of his energy that had been holding him up to lift her and maneuver himself into the chair with her on his lap. 

She tried to push him away, but he just held her tighter. He was not going to let her get away again. “Anne, I'm so sorry. I'm just angry, but that's not an excuse. It's not much of anything, really. I'm so, so sorry, but ready to spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

Anne sniffed in again, and curled herself further into his chest. He panicked, for a moment, and felt her forehead desperately for any sign of that damned fever coming back. He found no trace. 

“You missed dinner.” She mumbled accusingly. 

He didn't care, really. “Did you eat?” He asked, concerned. She was still eating less than she needed. 

“Yes. WD made me.” she responded, and he could hear the frustration in her voice.

“You're getting better, he just wants to keep you that way.” Philip responded. 

Anne didn't reply and curled into his chest further. “I'm sorry too.” She said softly. 

She fell asleep. Philip stayed there with her. He'd really screwed up.


	13. Bargaining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip reflects on how he got here, and those closest to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make this a character study style chapter, don't think it worked. Hope you enjoy!

Philip sat looking out the window. The anger had passed, and he was thoroughly embarrassed about his actions. He’d tried to apologize, but nobody would hear of it. They all accepted it, and moved on. Except him. 

He thought about how he felt when he met Barnum. He was miserable, drowning in alcohol and societal pressures, and Barnum let him be free from all of it. Free from the pressure to write for the snobs, free from having to try to be the man his parents wanted. He was allowed to be happy, be himself. And barnum, he took care of him better than his own parents. Both of them did. He hoped he’d never lose them, it would be catastrophic. For him or barnum, he wasn’t sure, but he knew it would hurt. A lot. 

“Please, if i get better i swear i will be perfect for them. Please, don’t let me lose them.” He begged. 

Caroline and Helen were angels, godsends, when he needed a lift in mood. Helen was bright, vivacious, always in trouble. It was astounding, the things she got herself into. She never failed to amuse him, or nearly tackle him with the hardest hug he’d ever gotten. Every time they saw each other, Helen was almost always on Philip’s back, swinging around, usually with his tophat askew. Caroline was just as enthusiastic, but more poised than her younger sister. She was comfortable in the upper class life, and her grace was reminiscent of her mother. They were both so funny, and so interesting, he couldn’t help but love them unconditionally and without reservations. 

“Please, I’ll get better, as long as nothing happens to Caroline and Helen.” He whispers it into the air, a promise, begging. If anything happened to them, he had no idea what would happen. 

He considered Anne, the way she loved him so unconditionally, and so completely. He didn’t deserve her, didn’t deserve the way she let so many things slide, the way she held him accountable all the same. He didn’t deserve the way that she asked the same of him, to hold her accountable, but also how they felt about each other, the way that they stayed positive in light of the negative around them. He really didn’t deserve her. 

“God, please, let nothing happen to Anne. I’ll do anything, please, keep her safe first.” He thought about how she would kill him, for his thoughts, for what he was begging for. She would be sassy, and independent. She would insist that she could take care of herself, and he needed to worry about him. It was a point they went back and forth on often. God, she was so perfect for him, and he was just...this...mess, of a man. 

He thought about how much of a struggle she was still having with her appetite and her energy, and how much he wished she would improve already, so he could stop worrying. “Please, if you make Anne better, I’ll be perfect for her. Never yell, never swear, never even drink a drop if you please, just let her be better. Be improved, go back to flying the way she flew into my heart.”

He considered his life, where he was now. How he’d gotten here. It had started young. Every time he’d stepped out of line, according to his parent’s ever changing rules of the household, he’d felt the repercussions. Literally. He hoped, in some twisted way, that the scars from the fire would eliminate scars from...well, from before. They were scars from doing something he loved. Scars that he would receive again and again, if he got them doing what he was doing. He’d go after anyone in the circus, if they were in a tight spot, life or death or otherwise. He’d only hope they’d do the same for him. 

He berated himself. Of course they would do it for him. They were like a family. They would do anything for anyone. He was the one who’d screwed them over, letting Barnum go on his half-cocked tour with that Lind woman, letting the troupe get involved in the skirmish he’d started. Maybe he should just leave now, while he still has his dignity, while he still has their respect. 

He couldn’t fathom the thought of leaving them. Leaving Anne, Helen, Caroline. He couldn’t do it. They didn’t deserve him, but he couldn’t leave, either. “Please, God. I’ll rebuild their home, bigger and better and more beautiful than before, if only you’ll keep them safe. Keep them safe, and I’ll do anything.” This is his most heartfelt plea, and he looks out the window, vision blurry. 

A hand on his shoulder causes him to jump. He realizes it’s gone dark outside. 

“Philip?” 

It’s charity’s soft, loving voice. He turns towards her. 

She sees the vulnerability in his eyes, and embraces him. “It’s going to be alright. We all will be.” she reassures him. 

He wishes he felt the same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review!


	14. Depression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip is despondent, and it takes everyone to drag him out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to get this finished! I know how it's going to end, but I have to get there. Please enjoy!
> 
> I don’t own any of the Lyrics from “We all Need Saving” that are sprinkled throughout.

It was Anne who first noticed something was wrong. 

She noticed everything about him, almost to the point of hypervigilance. It started with mealtimes. Instead of hungrily finishing everything, he picked at it, maybe eating half when he realized Anne was staring. When she’d look away, he’d resume pushing his food around. 

Then she noticed his decreased willingness to go for the walks that were improving both of them. He’d grimace, and Anne would almost be able to see the no forming behind his lips. He’d clench them shut and nod, no longer resolute, more...resigned. It was concerning, to say the least. 

Then he began sleeping, every time he wasn’t eating or walking, he’d fall into bed. He wasn’t exhausted, he was just...despondent. And it shook Anne to her core.  
\---  
Philip was overwhelmed. He’d been at the Barnum’s for weeks, it felt like, and he was rarely alone. For someone who valued time alone, had gotten used to it as a child, it was a lot to deal with at once. He’d known it was coming, sure as the cough he still carried around. He just didn’t expect it to be so sudden or so hard. 

He knew, reasonably, that he was hurting the people around him. Emotionally, he was numb to it. He knew he just needed to say he needed to be alone, to recharge, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t find it in himself to care about his increasing state of dishevelment, couldn’t find joy in the short walks he would take, or the smile on Anne’s face after Helen excitedly showed her something she had learned. He no longer enjoyed anything, he was just...numb. And what was worse, he was starting to get used to it.  
\---  
When Philip doesn’t get out of bed, even with Caroline trying to coax him with chocolate, is when the household as a whole realizes there’s something much, much bigger going on within him. 

It was upsetting to everyone, but it was a setback, to Anne. He hadn’t been this quiet and still since he’d lain, unconscious, in the hospital. She had resumed her vigil at his side, but this time it hurt so much more because he could hear her, could feel her, but didn’t respond. She couldn’t tear herself away from his side, but WD and Charity were undeterred. They simply brought her meals to her, and watched to ensure she ate. They were loathe to have her decline after such a struggle to get where she was. 

She often found herself wound around him like a cat, offering comfort and stability he didn’t know he wanted. She was always there, even when he found himself waking from a sleep that left him no more rested than when he’d fallen into it. He’d find tears snaking down his face that he didn’t remember shedding, and a soft handkerchief wiping them away reverently. He felt the appreciation he was sure he was meant to, but he couldn’t express it. It was like his emotions were stuck behind a wall.  
\---  
Nobody was really sure what to do. Charity hoped her husband, who’d been MIA since the day on the stairs, could help.

PT Barnum enters Philip’s room, and it’s like he can feel the darkness Philip is trapped in. “Philip?” he asks nervously. He hasn’t really spoken to him since that afternoon, after Philip had had something of a release. 

Philip flips his hand, and Phineas takes that as permission to come closer. “Phil?” he asks carefully. He approaches as if he’d approaching one of the lions. 

When he reaches the bed, he carefully perches on the edge. “You know, this isn’t the you I know. This isn’t real, it’s just all you can feel right now. And sometimes, that’s the way it goes.” He looks down to see if the man below him is listening. “I can’t keep you from yourself, and you’ll do what you’ll do. But, trust me, don’t tell yourself you can’t lean on someone else. We all need saving, sometimes. Charity saved me. I saved you once, and won’t hesitate to do it again. You saved the circus.” He let the statement sit in the air, thick and heavy. 

“Then why do i feel nothing? I feel...empty. Tired. Worn out.” The words were whispered, full of the pain he wasn’t letting himself feel. 

Phineas couldn’t do anything but hold him, like a mother holding her child. He really, really wished he could fix this.  
\---  
Barnum should’ve known that wasn’t the end of it. It was somewhere around midnight, he thought, when he heard a squeak on the steps. He knew it was the third step from the top, he’d learned to avoid it on nights the circus ran late. Getting up, he stuck his head around the open door. They left it open in case the girls needed them. What he saw, however, was not what he expected. He watched, dumbstruck, as Philip stumbled his way down the stairs. He was going faster than usual, like something was chasing him. He followed him, stepping carefully, staying quiet as not to alert him. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like where this was going. 

He followed Philip into the front room, and into the space where they kept the social liquors. He barely kept himself from shouting. 

He watched as Philip reached into the cabinet, and emerged victorious with the bottle he was hoping for. He froze, bottle to his lips as his eyes, empty and sad, met Barnum’s hazy ones as he turned. 

“Phin?” he questioned. It was the most feeling he’d had in days, even if it was just fear.

“Philip...what...how...why…?” He was at a loss for words. 

“Fills it...burns it away...feels...good.” he forced out. He didn’t want to talk about it, just wanted to fill the emptiness he felt. 

“Philip, this isn’t the way to do that. That is nothing to you. What do you want to find at the bottom of that bottle?” 

“Hope.” was the simple response. Barnum stepped forward and engulfed the younger man in a hug. 

“Philip, that’s not hope. That’s not going to lead you to hope.” he whispered fiercely. “That’s going to lead you down a dark and dangerous path, and we don’t want you to go there. We love you.”

Philip allowed the bottle to be taken from him, and led back to bed. He didn’t believe it could get better.  
\---  
Anne is curled back around him, and his head is pounding. He doesn’t remember why. 

She’s talking, in tongues, it feels like. “I can’t keep you from yourself, but you make me what i’m worth. Philip, I love you.” she whispers. 

“You too.” It’s weak, it’s painful, it’s all he can manage. But it’s something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review!


	15. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Real estate in Manhattan is a terrible investment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own any of the last scene, disclaimer. It was such a perfect wrap up to our story!
> 
> This, unfortunately, dear readers, is our last chapter together. I hope you enjoyed. Never fear, though, nothing keeps me down long. I, along with my girl @overlycompensatedapprentice, are gonna be back with more angst and hurt than you can take.

The first day he goes an entire day without a single cough passes by uneventfully. He’s still careful with his movements, and mindful of his endurance, but it doesn’t occur to him he hasn’t coughed all day until he goes after a giggling Helen who’s just poked his side and he runs after her. When he turns, capturing his tormentor with a growl, he turns to an awed Anne. “What?” He asks. The rasp has been gone from his voice for weeks, and it’s regained its power, its silkiness.

“You’re okay. You’re really okay.” Is all she says. 

He puts Helen down and swings her around, dipping her in his arms. “And so are you, my beautiful, wonderful, flying princess.” The growl in his voice is unmistakable. 

Their first long walk returns them on the path to the lake. After the disaster of the last time, everyone comes. Caroline and Helen are carrying buckets to play in the sand, Charity is carrying large spoons, and Phineas has a basket full of food. There may have been a little bit of ice in case of another collapse, and WD is carrying blankets. Not including the one he’s pinned around Anne’s shoulders, and the one that Philip is carrying. It was all any of them were willing to let him carry. The cold water when they arrive shocks his system, but the intake of air, fresh and tinged with salt, is a nice feeling. And the exhale doesn’t include a spasm of the diaphragm. Indeed, a victory.   
—  
The first visit to the rubble of what they used to call home is another, harder, more painful shock to the system. Anne frets the entire carriage ride, reminding him a thousand times that he doesn’t even have to get out, doesn’t have to see it. He resorts to holding her hand, rubbing a thumb over the back of it. He’s pleased to note her bones are far less visible, and she doesn’t have the gaunt look around her. Her hair is shining again, and her eyes have their spark back. 

Their arrival isn’t heralded as he thought, the downcast troupe still downtrodden and stressed. 

There’s a small cheer when they both emerge, and Lettie’s obligatory bear hug to both of them, whispered reassurances to her, and a silent regard of the rubble, still smoking. The lord of Leeds and Tom Thumb are sitting forlornly on the steps. Tom has found a stuffed soldier, and he regards it, burned and battered. Philip tried not to think of the irony. 

That day, he just watches. He watches as they put out the last of the hot spots, and checks in with everyone, ensuring they were all alright and taken care of. 

When he and Anne depart, he has to fight against the urge to turn them around and stay there all day.   
—  
Their next visits are just as depressing, but the recovery of small, meaningful objects raises spirits incrementally. The day Barnum had gone to the bank, Philip and Anne continued with the recovery efforts of anything from the site of the former circus. 

They were digging out one of Anne’s hoops, scorched beyond use but recoverable all the same, when Phineas returned, face long and depressed. 

He spoke first. “The bank said no?” 

Phineas turned to look at him. “Emphatically.” He rolled his eyes. “Repeatedly.” 

Philip let the sentiment sit, putting together his statement. He’d been considering it for a while, and now seemed a perfect time. “When i met you, i had an inheritance, an invite to every party in town, a reputation. Thanks to you, all that’s gone. What I have now is friendship, love, and a work that I adore. You brought joy into my life. Into all our lives.”

Barnum huffed. “If only the bank would take joy as collateral.” 

Philip tossed his head. “They may not. But I will.” With Barnum’s confused look, he continued. “I own ten percent of the show. KNowing who I was working for, i had the sense to take my cut weekly.” 

Barnum turned to him, concerned. “I can’t let you risk everything on me.”

Anne took up the argument. “Sure you can!”

Lettie called out from behind him. “Don’t turn sensible on us now!”

Philip smiled, the same damned smirk he’d had the night he’d joined the circus. “Only thing is, I don’t know how we’re gonna afford a building.” 

The old spark was back in Barnum’s eyes. “Real estate in Manhattan is a terrible investment. I can get land down by the docks for almost nothing. All we need...is a tent!” 

And that was when Philip knew it would all be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, feel free to send ideas for anything you’d like to see!


End file.
